


We All Fall Down

by yelyahkilljoys



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-05-20 11:03:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yelyahkilljoys/pseuds/yelyahkilljoys
Summary: Gerard Way didn't think his life could get any worse.He was once the boy who lived in his fantasies, had four great friends, and was actually doing alright.Now, Gerard's lost all of his friends,due to various reasons, and he can't sleep without having nightmares of the night one of them died. It doesn't help that he's completely in love with his ex-best friend, Frank Iero. Reality is harsh, and he wants nothing but to escape it.When Gerard's life becomes a living nightmare, he's forced to face old friends and enemies. He's been thrust into a dangerous game he wants no part in, but he's not just playing to get it over with; He's playing for his life.





	1. 101 Ways To Lose A Friend

High school stole so many things from you, especially as you got older. It stole the little things; things that nobody would miss, like time, and pennies, and sleep.

The problem was, I really liked sleep. I liked sleep like I liked music, and books. They were all ways for me to get lost and fade into my fantasies.

The way I'd always wanted to live. The way I had been before the world thought it needed me, for some reason, and took me away from my dreams. Frank used to say that we were all born on the wrong side of reality.

There wasn't a single atom in my body that didn't agree. I wanted to go back to the way things had been. I wanted to go back to the way I was back before the world ended.

I can still hear it sometimes, late at night, the screaming, the crying, and worst of all, the pleading.

"Gerard! Gerard, help me! Gee, please!"

In the silence, it's all I can hear, and it never goes away. In the end, I put in my earbuds, playing my music so loudly that it drowns out my thoughts.

. . . .

"Hey, Gerard!"

I kept walking, cursing under my breath. I knew that voice anywhere.

I pretended I couldn't hear her, and her tone turned into a whine.

"Gerard! Wait up!"

I couldn't ignore her any longer. She was too loud and was causing a scene.

I turned around to see Kia Muller, one of the most popular girls at Belleville High School, walking towards me, her heels clicking incredibly loudly on the tile. To my surprise, she was with two other girls of the same status, Olivia Harper and Kylie Oswald.

Finally, they caught up to me, and Kia spoke to my back as I walked towards my locker. To tell the truth, I hated going to my locker, because the school had alphabetized us, and mine was sandwiched between Ray Toro and my own brother, Mikey. I used to be close with them, along with Frank Iero, who's locker was right next to Olivia's.

The four of us weren't close anymore. In fact, the only one of them I was even friends with anymore was Mikey, and we weren't even that tight.

I wanted them back more than anything.

I recalled the day now. I'd been in my second year of high school, and it'd been right after I dyed my hair red when they first took notice to me.

I'd been in weights class, and it was a bench press day. I'd been benching just over one hundred pounds when two of the popular kids, Dylan Owens and Lindsey Ballato, walked over. The two had waited politely for me to finish before Dylan spoke up.

"Hi, Gerard. You're pretty good at that."

I hadn't been sure why they were talking to me. Maybe they were taking pity on me, for I had no friends in that weights class.

"Do you want to sit with us at lunch?" Lindsey had asked, smiling at me.

"Uh, I actually think I'm going to sit with my friends today, but thanks," I'd responded.

Lindsey had tried to hide her disappointment. "That's alright."

Lunch had rolled around next hour, and I'd been sitting at my usual table with Frank, Mikey, and Ray. We'd been talking about the new Misfits album. Frank, however, had been weirdly quiet. We all knew something was up, because he never shut his mouth. Ray had asked him what was wrong, but Frank had only replied with a shake of his head.

Finally, Frank had said, "Gerard, Lindsey Ballato keeps staring at you."

There was something in his voice that I'd never heard from him before.

The table fell quiet as we all turned to look at the table where Lindsey sat. She was so unlike the other girls that I was surprised of her friendships with them, though, to be honest, she had seemed to like the boys better.

Lindsey had caught my eye and smiled. Tentatively, I'd smiled back. I looked away after five seconds, so it wouldn't become awkward.

Mikey had been smirking. Ray had been smiling at me. Frank had been looking down at his plate and picking at his food.

"You're friends with Lindsey?" Frank had asked, his voice bitter.

"Well, I guess. I mean, she's in my weight class," I'd answered.

"She seems pretty cool," Mikey had added. "Though I don't really like the crowd she hangs out with."

"Do you like her?" Frank had questioned, stabbing his potatoes violently.

I hadn't been able to believe the way he'd been acting. I didn't like Lindsey, not in a romantic way. The truth was, I'd had a huge crush on Frank since seventh grade.

But Frank had obviously had feelings for her.

Instead of answering him, I'd said. "Well, Frank, if you're so interested in her, why don't you go talk to her?" Jealousy had crept into my voice, but I couldn't force it out.

His head had snapped up. "Wh-what?" I'd caught him off guard.

"Well," I'd continued. "That's obviously why you're so upset about her checking me out."

Ray and Mikey had looked at each other. Frank and I rarely fought.

He'd clenched his teeth, his fist curling around his fork. "I'm not upset, Gerard."

"You obviously are, Frank. You're getting all mad at me because she smiled at me. God forbid I have friends that aren't you."

"Shut up!" He'd yelled. Conversations had stopped. Heads had turned to stare at us.

His cheeks colored as he lowered his voice. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, anyways."

Those were the last words Frank said to me as my best friend.

The next day, I sat with Lindsey and Dylan and the entire popular crowd. I was angry at Frank, and I wanted revenge. But then he had stopped talking to me, and I think Ray and Mikey felt a bit betrayed. It only meant to happen once. I didn't even like anybody who sat at that table, except for Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross. I couldn't help but feel bitter towards Lindsey.

And, somehow, it'd led to this.

Now, we reached my locker. Ray was at his, piling his textbooks into his backpack. He just nodded at me and went back to his task.

In another life, maybe he would've smiled.

"Anyways, Brendon and Ryan can't come to the party because they said they had things to do," Kia said. "Something to do with milk."

"When's this party again?" I asked, yanking my backpack out of my locker.

"Saturday night," Olivia replied, running her fingers through her black hair. "At my house, Gerard. Were you even paying attention?"

"Of course I was," I lied.

"Hey, Ray!" Somebody called.

The girls' heads turned as the new person approached.

I didn't have to. I knew that voice better than I knew all the words to my favorite song.

When Frank reached Ray, he ignored me, but I wasn't surprised. That's how we'd been treating each other for the past year. Why would he stop now?

I missed Frank. I missed his laugh, and the way he smiled. I missed how his eyes sparkled when we were about to do something exciting, and his many tattoos. I looked at him, and to my surprise, he was staring at me. Our eyes met for a nanosecond before he pulled his gaze away.

Mikey joined them a moment later. He only smiled at me.

"So, Gee, are you coming?" Kia asked.

The temperature in the area seemed to go down at least thirty degrees.

Nobody called me Gee anymore. It'd been what Frank and Ray and Mikey had called me.

I stole a glance up at them. Ray was staring into his locker. Frank was staring at the floor. Mikey was picking at the skin around his nails.

"We'll see," I told Kia.

I slammed my locker shut as the girls walked away. The guys had resumed their conversation.

I cleared my throat. "Mikey? Are you ready to go?"

We only had one car to share between us, so I drove him home everyday. The other car was Dad's that he drove to work.

He looked at me, a smile lingering on his lips. "Yeah. Bye, guys."

We headed towards the parking lot. We got in the car, and turned up the radio.

"How was your day?" I asked Mikey.

"Okay. Your's?"

"It was fine."

We reached the house, and I parked the car and got out. "Mom!" I yelled when I entered the house. "We're home!"

No reply. She must be out, running errands.

"I'm going upstairs," Mikey told me. "To do my homework."

"Okay. If you need help, I'll be in my room."

He went up to his room, and I grabbed a snack before heading up to do my own homework.

I'd been working for about forty five minutes when my phone began to ring.

"Hello?"

The person on the other line took a minute to respond. "Hello. Is this Gerard Way?"

I'd never heard the other person's voice before.

"Yeah."

"I need you to come to the parking lot behind the tattoo parlor at 4:15 tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

"Why?" I was getting kind of creeped out now.

The man just chuckled. "This is my game, Gerard, and you will play by my rules. Be there at 4:15 or else."


	2. In Which Frank Gets Another Tattoo, As If Needles Are No Big Deal

_We were sitting in my living room, the five of us, bored out of our minds. It was the summer before sophomore year, and we'd planned to go bowling. What we didn't know was that the bowling alley closed earlier on Sunday nights, and now we didn't have anything to do._

_After Mom had ordered us pizza, and we'd played a few video games, we were halfway through a movie nobody was even paying attention to. Next to me, Mikey was scrolling through Tumblr. Ray was throwing popcorn into the air and trying to catch it in his mouth. Bob Bryar and Frank were whispering quietly._

_As for me, I was trying to focus on the movie, but to be honest, I really didn't care about whether Katniss was going to win The Hunger Games or not at the moment. Mikey and I had seen this movie a hundred times. I knew how it ended._

_Eventually, Bob broke the ice. "Let's do something."_

_Mikey rolled his eyes. "We are doing something. We're watching a movie, Bob."_

_"Nobody's even paying attention. Come on, let's go do something exciting," He urged._

_"What could we possibly do, Bob? It's two thirty in the morning," I said._

_He was quiet for a moment before saying, "Gee, Mikey, isn't there a creek in the woods. near your house?"_

_Mikey nodded._

_"Why don't we go swim in it?" Bob asked._

_Ray practically chocked on a piece of popcorn. "Oh no."_

_Ray couldn't swim, and he was deathly scared of drowning. Bob laughed. "Still haven't gotten those swimming lessons, Toro?" He taunted._

_Ray's cheeks colored. He just stared at the television._

_"Leave him alone, Bob," Frank said, playing with his lip ring._

_"Spider!" Bob suddenly shouted, pointing at the carpet. Frank cried out and scrambled away, but there was nothing there. Bob burst out laughing, and the shorter boy just glared at him._

_"I don't think it's a good idea to go swimming right now," I said. "Especially in the creek."_

_Bob rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Gerard. Are you scared?"_

_"Of course not," I said, running a hand through my black hair._

_"Then quit being a wuss, Gee, and come down to the creek with me."_

_"Bob, no-"_

_He wouldn't listen, and in the next moment, his shoes were on his feet, and he was out the door._

_I sighed as Mikey paused the movie. "We'd better go after him," Frank said._

_We slipped on our shoes and exited the house. The full moon cast just enough light for us to see._

_Bob was waiting for us in the yard. He broke into a grin when he saw us. "I knew the four of you would man up soon enough. Come on, let's head into the woods."_

_There was no fighting him now. Mikey and I led the way to the creek. It was only a short distance from the house._

_It got darker as we entered the woods thanks to trees, so we all ended up turning on our phone flashlights._

_"Hey, Gee?" Mikey asked me quietly,_

_"Yeah?" I responded._

_"There's no, uh, sharks in the creek, right?"_

_"Nope, Mikey. No sharks."_

_My younger brother was terrified of sharks, so whenever we entered a new body of water, he asked the shark question._

_Finally, we reached the creek. Bob let out a whoop as he stuck his hand into the water. "It's kind of cold, but surprisingly not bad," He remarked._

_We were all in our pajamas and didn't have bathing suits on us, so we just stripped down to our boxers. Well, except for Ray. He just rolled up the bottom of his pajama pants and sat with his feet in the water._

_I stole a glance at Frank, who, like me, was only in his underwear. Tattoos adorned his chest, arms, and legs. I was surprised to see a couple on his thighs. He looked good, really really good in the moonlight. His hair was tousled, and his eyes were shining. The most exposed I'd ever seen him was in swim trunks, only one or two times, and I suddenly wished that all of Frank's swimsuits were as short as his boxers._

_Frank looked over at me, and caught me staring at him. He grinned. "Like what you see, Gerard? Take a picture, it lasts longer!"_

_I blushed scarlet and laughed nervously, crossing my arms over my chest. I'd be lying if I said I was confident in my body; the truth was I was extremely insecure about my appearance._

_I turned to the creek as I heard a splash. Bob was bobbing up and down in the water, laughing._

_"Gee, Mikey, Frank, get in!"_

_Frank was first to jump in. He landed in the creek with a splash and disappeared beneath the ripples._

_I went next. The water was cold when it hit me, and I resurfaced to see Mikey a couple feet away._

_We were at a point where we could all touch the bottom, and the soft sand felt nice in between my toes._

_"Ray!" Frank yelled. "You'll be able to touch here, if you want to get in!"_

_Ray just shook his head._

_We swam around for a moment longer, before I heard Mikey yell, "Guys! Where's Bob?"_

_The night fell silent, and that's when we heard the screaming._

_"Help! Mikey! Ray! Help! Gerard! Can you hear me? Frank! Help!"_

_It was Bob._

_We pulled ourselves out of the creek and sprinted down the shore, towards the yelling. It was cold, and I was shivering, but we had to find Bob._

_Finally, we reached him. He had drifted downstream, where the current was heavier and threatening to pull him under. It was a deeper area, and he was clawing at the grass for dear life._

_I was ahead of the others. I saw him first._

_Bob's eyes widened when he saw me._

_"Gerard! Gerard, help me! Gee, please!"_

_I sprinted towards him, but I didn't get there in time. My hand was outstretched, so close to his, when the current swept him away and under the water, never to be seen again._

I woke up screaming, and in cold sweat. My legs were tangled in the sheets. My mother was rubbing slow, gentle circles on my back.

"Gerard! Honey, wake up, you're having another nightmare."

It seemed as if the memories had come for me. Again.

"Sweetie, it's okay. You're safe now. Please stop crying, baby," Mom whispered. She was perched on the edge of my bed. I felt bad for waking her up like this, almost every night. I'd told her before that I was fine, but every time I began to scream, she came up to comfort me. She was always here, no matter what I said.

Mom knew what I was having a flashback to. The night where my old friend, Bob Bryar, died.

I sat up, shaking. She pulled me into a hug instantly, still rubbing my back.

"It's over, Gerard. You're safe. Mikey's safe. Frank and Ray are safe. It's okay."

"Bob's not, though," I whimpered. "He's dead because of me. I could've saved him. It's my fault Bob's dead."

"No, Gerard," Mom insisted. "It's not your fault, okay, baby? Now look at me." She pulled away from me, but kept a hold of my hands.

I looked over her shoulder to see Mikey standing in the doorway, a worried expression on his face.

Bob's death had affected him, too. This summer, Mikey had been officially diagnosed with insomnia, and was on medication.

"Gerard," Mom said, wiping away my tears with her sleeve. "I want you to do something with me, okay?"

I knew we were practicing the breathing exercises my doctor had told her to try.

"Okay."

"We're going to breathe in for four seconds, hold our breath for seven seconds, and breathe out for eight seconds. Can you do that with me?"

"Yes."

We practiced the exercise a couple of times before Mom stood up and kissed the top of my head.

"Try to go back to sleep. If you need me, I'll be downstairs."

She walked out of the room, whispering something to Mikey as she shut the door.

. . . .

I didn't get back to sleep that night.

I lay awake, tossing and turning, trying every trick I knew of to get to sleep. Eventually, my alarm, which had been set for three thirty, went off.

I pulled myself out of bed, selected a pair of skinny jeans and a Black Flag shirt, and changed. I slid on my favorite pair of converse. Then, I went into the bathroom in do my hair and brush my teeth.

Right when I opened the door, somebody else emerged. It was Mikey.

"Mikey?" I asked. "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same question," He responded.

Then, it dawned on me

"You got the phone call too, didn't you? The one asking to meet you behind the tattoo parlor at 4:15?" I whispered.

My brother only nodded. I made him promise to wait for me and not go anywhere.

I quickly finished getting ready, and headed downstairs, making sure not to make too much noise. Mikey was waiting for me.

"You ready to go?" I asked.

"Yeah," He said. I grabbed a granola bar for breakfast and went to get in the car. We didn't bother to leave a note for Mom and Dad, because they would think that we just left for school early, and it would be fine.

We drove in silence, until my brother asked,

"What do you think all this is about?"

"I'm not sure, Mikey."

We parked in the back parking lot of the tattoo parlor. Other than a few other cars, it was vacant.

I was about to ask Mikey if he just wanted to sit in the car and wait, because to be honest, I really didn't want to go in the tattoo parlor. The art was cool, but I knew that where there was a tattoo parlor, there would be needles.

I was terrified of needles. I could look at them and be fine, but the idea of them going into my skin, or anybody else's scared me as much as some of the teenagers at school.

Mikey was already pushing open the car door. "Where are you going?" I asked.

"I see Frank's car," He replied. "He must be inside."

He slammed the door shut and headed into the parlor. I sighed, and followed him.

Inside, there was art posted everywhere. They were nice designs, and I saw a couple that maybe I would get on my body if I wasn't scared of needles.

There were two chairs sitting in the middle of the room. One of the chairs were occupied, and a guy with messy brown hair and loads tattoos on his arms was leaning over a shirtless Frank Iero, giving him yet another tattoo.

Frank had more tattoos on his chest and his stomach than the last time I'd seen him bare chested. He also had a lot more on his arms, but I'd noticed those with each new addition.

The tattooist finished, treated the area, and sat back and admired his work. "You're all finished. Thanks for coming in."

Frank grinned and hopped out of the chair. "It's my pleasure. Thanks, Pete." He snatched his shirt back, but before putting it on, he looked at my brother.

"How does it look, Mikey?"

"It looks good."

The tattoo artist, Pete, looked up. His eyes widened when he saw us. "Mikey Way? Is that you? No way!" He strolled over and slapped Mikey on the back.

I was very confused by the gesture, for I'd never seen this guy before. "Uh, how do you know this guy, Mikes?"

"He's a friend that used to be on my soccer team back when I still played," Mikey responded.

Pete reached out his hand for a handshake. "I'm Pete Wentz."

I took it. "I'm Gerard, Mikey's brother."

Pete turned his attention back to Mikey. "Come on, you've got to meet my coworkers, Patrick, Joe, and Andy." With that, they disappeared into the back room, and Frank and I were left alone.

Frank had put his shirt back on, and we just kind of stood there in awkward silence before I said, "I like your new tattoo, Frank." He'd gotten a dove, with devil horns and X's over the eyes.

He smiled a little bit. "Thanks. You still afraid of needles?"

"Yeah," I confessed. "Does getting a tattoo on your stomach hurt?"

"The pain's pretty bad," He admitted. "But it's worth it. Why are you here so early?"

"Well, I got this phone call-" I began, but he interrupted me.

"That's what I thought."

"Is that the reason you're here, too?"

"Yes. The new tat was only a benefit," He replied.

We saw headlights through the window, and just another car behind it.

"Mikey!" I called. "We need to go!"

My brother emerged from the back room, with Pete at his side. "What's going on?" Pete asked, his expression worried.

"Nothing," Mikey told him quickly. "We're just meeting some people here."

Pete nodded. "Maybe I'll see you later?"

My brother gave him a small smile. "Yeah. I think I'd like that."

We left the shop, and Mikey waved bye to Pete. Two cars had been parked next to Frank's. One was red, and the other was black. Next to them, two figures were fighting.

Frank took off towards them. I was just behind him, and Mikey was on my heels.

Once we got closer, we could see that a man in sunglasses had Ray Toro in a headlock, a gun pressed to his temple. Ray was grunting and trying to get away, but the other guy was stronger.

"Let him go!" Frank yelled, stepping forwards. His hands were balled up into fists, and he spoke through clenched teeth.

The guy just smiled. "Don't move and get in the car, or I'll shoot your little friend here."


	3. We Check Into The Hotel Bella Muerte

"We'll get in the car," I said instantly. Ray looked at me, shocked.

The guy smiled and shoved him forwards. "Alright, but Shortie has to sit in the front with me," He said. His grin widened when he looked at Frank. "You're a feisty little one, aren't you?"

Frank just kept on scowling.

We got in the car, which reeked of nicotine and sweat. I didn't like Frank being up next to the strange man, especially when he had a gun.

Ray, Mikey, and I were crammed in the backseat. I'd somehow gotten stuck in the middle of the two boys, probably because I was the shortest of the three of us, though Mikey was only taller than me by an inch.

"Thanks," Ray muttered to me.

"It's nothing. I would do it again."

That surprised look retuned to his face. I sighed. "Ray, you honestly think that if I had the choice, I'd just let you die?"

"No," He replied, tugging at a curl. "It's just that, well, after you and Frank got into that fight last year, you seemed really upset with all of us. You just cut ties completely and started hanging out with Lindsey Ballato and Kia Muller."

"I was going to come back," I said. "You guys seemed really angry at me, though, so I didn't. It seemed like you didn't want me back in your lives."

Mikey, who's been eavesdropping, shrugged. "I mean, we were mad at you for a little bit, but we got over it pretty quickly. We missed you, Gerard, but we didn't try to get you back because it didn't seem like you wanted to come back," He explained.

Before I could open my mouth to respond, the guy in the front seat said, "Now, boys, I'm going to let you know that if you disobey any orders once we reach our destination, I'll be forced to use this weapon on you. Understand?"

We all nodded. "Good," He said. "As for me, you guys can call me D." He chuckled. "You're going to be seeing a lot more of me than you think."

We sat in silence for about thirty minutes. The car didn't even have a radio. The spot where it was supposed to be was empty, as if it'd been ripped out, or stolen.

Eventually, the buildings disappeared and we entered the Jersey countryside. There, we drove for about fifteen more long minutes filled with quiet. Finally, an ancient hotel came into view. It was small for a hotel, with only three floors. The sign read in faded, weathered letters _The Hotel Bella Muerte._

I knew from my Spanish classes that it translated to _The Hotel Beautiful Death._

D looked at me through the rearview mirror and chuckled. "Don't bother calling for help on your phones, either. There's no service here."

There were only four other cars in the small lot. D parked, and we all climbed out. He turned and smiled at us, running a hand through his black curls before placing it back on his gun. "Just this way, boys."

We entered the lobby, which had a check in desk and peeling striped wallpaper. There were roaches crawling on the walls, and cobwebs in the corners. It smelt like cigarette smoke and mothballs. There were a couple of shabby chairs pushed up into the corners.

A girl who looked to be around twenty with stringy brown hair sat at the desk paging through a magazine and smoking a cigarette. She looked up when she saw us, took a long drag of her cigarette, and said, "What's up, D?"

D grinned at her flirtatiously and said, "Hello, Roslyn. Fancy seeing you here."

She looked at him for a solid three seconds before saying, "I work here."

He ignored the comment. "I need to get these four guys checked in here. It's Frank Iero, Mikey Way, Ray Toro, and Gerard Way."

A small smile formed on her lips. "Team Three and Team Two arrived before Team One? Interesting."

Mikey and I exchanged glances. Team Three?

"Team Two's already here?" D asked, surprise flashing across his normally composed face. "X got here before me?"

Roselyn giggled and said, "Yeah, he beat you here." She took another drag and pulled two room keys out of a drawer and handed them to D. "Room 3B."

"Thanks," He replied. D led us up the stairs and into a hallway. He strode to room 3B and motioned for us to follow, and once we did, he pushed open the door.

The room was disgusting. The wallpaper was peeling, and there were roaches and spiders crawling all over them. There were holes in the wall, too, and the window had been covered in webs. Frank took a step away from it.

As for the beds, they were covered in yellow-brown stains. Sitting in between the two beds was a rickety nightstand that looked like it was about ready to collapse. On top of it sat a lamp and a telephone that's cord had been chewed through. The carpet was covered in stains and had dead bugs stuck in it.

"This," Mikey whispered. "is nasty."

I only nodded.

D smirked. "Hope you like it, though there's not much I can do if you don't. Anyways, you heard Roselyn; Team Two's already here. Since it's only 5:10, so their probably downstairs eating breakfast. You can go meet them, if you want, or you can chill up here. I'll come find you guys at 10:45, but you've got a lot of free time on your hands. I'm going downstairs."

He strode out of the room, pressing one of the two room keys in my hand as he went.

He shut the door, and I said, "Okay. Who's sleeping where?"

"I call this spot," Frank said, flopping down on the bed furthest from the window on the side that wasn't next to the wall. He shot a nervous glance at a spider making a web in the corner of the room. "And, uh, can somebody please kill that thing?"

"It'll die on it's own here soon enough," Ray said, crashing next to him. He made a face. "These mattresses are hard as a rock."

Mikey walked over to the other bed and sat down. He picked up a pillow and frowned. "The pillows aren't much better. They're pretty lumpy."

I sat down on the only remaining spot, the one next to the nightstand on the bed I shared with my brother. "Well, you can't always have a five star hotel," I responded, trying to be positive as I looked at the chewed up telephone cord. Yep. Definitely rats.

Frank frowned. "They could at least give us a place that wasn't crawling with spiders."

Ray shrugged and sat up. "What can you do, Frankie? Now, I didn't get anything for breakfast, so I say we go downstairs and see if this place has better food than rooms."

"I'm not sure I want to eat it," I joked as we walked to the door. "There could be cockroaches in the food."

Mikey rolled his eyes and said, "I wonder who this Team Two could be. And Team One."

I sighed. "Well, Mikey, I sure do hope we find out what's going on soon enough."


	4. I'd Really Rather Be Anyone But Gerard Way Right Now, Thanks

It wasn't hard to find the dining area. We followed the sound of chatter and laughter, and it was right next to the lobby. As we passed through, Roslyn gave us an uninterested look and continued to page through her magazine.

The dining area wasn't much better than the lobby itself; there were multiple holes in the walls, and I was surprised the furniture was still standing. Sitting at a table in the far corner were four people. There were two boys and two girls. They were all my age.

The first boy was taller than me, but only a little shorter than Ray. His hair was died red, a brighter shade than mine, and it was gelled up in a crazy style. I'd never seen him before, and he was laughing about something.

The second boy had dark hair that fell to his shoulders. He was sitting down, unlike the other boy, making it hard to see how tall he was. He was wearing a black Metallica shirt, and was picking at his eggs. He looked bored.

The two girls were Kia Muller and Lindsey Ballato.

The four looked up when we entered the room. Kia's face brightened instantly when she saw me. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes when she got up and ran over to me, throwing her arms around my shoulders.

"Gerard!" She cried. "Oh, thank goodness you're here. I was _so_ scared. This guy- he called himself X- rang and had me meet him at the old playground by the school. To my surprise, Lindsey was there too, and so were Bert and Jimmy." She nodded towards the others. Lindsey shot me a smile and waved.

"X ended up taking us here," Kia continued. "Said something about us being Team Two. I heard him say something about waiting for-"

She was cut off by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor loudly, as the boy with longer hair got to his feet. He smiled thinly at us as he approached, and said, "Kia, I don't know if you should be telling them all of this."

She frowned. "I don't see why not, Bert. Gerard is my friend. We can trust him."

Bert smiled at me, his eyes traveling up and down my body. I normally didn't feel uncomfortable with guys checking me out, but something about this guy just really set me off. I glanced at Frank out of the corner of my eye. The shorter boy was looking at Bert with what could've been resentment, but I wasn't sure.

Maybe it was just my delusional heart, trying to manipulate my brain into thinking that maybe Frank might actually return my feelings.

"Your friend's pretty good looking, Kia," Bert said. "But we can't tell him everything. We don't even know what's going on ourselves quite yet, and it'd be in our absolute worst interest to give him every little detail about how we got here. You don't see him desperate to share his side of the story with you."

Kia sighed, but didn't say another word. Lindsey and the other boy, who I guessed was Jimmy, had come over while Bert had been talking. Lindsey was about to say something, but was cut off when four other people entered the room. Four familiar faces.

Brendon Urie, Ryan Ross, Dylan Owens, and Olivia Harper.

Brendon and Ryan were whispering to each one other, and the only words I caught coming from Ryan's lips were ones I didn't even know the meaning to, and I only heard the f-bomb come from Brendon's mouth.

Olivia's lower lip was quivering, and she kept wiping at her eyes. Her makeup was smeared all over her face. Dylan was looking around, his shoulders tense and jaw tight. When his gaze landed on Lindsey, he relaxed, but only the slightest bit. They made their way over to each other, and Kia immediately crushed Olivia in a hug.

"Team One, do you think?" Ray asked under his breath. I nodded in agreement.

Jimmy had wandered off with Lindsey. Bert was back at his table, as though he'd never moved. He was eyeing me with lust, though, and to be honest, it scared me a little bit. I wanted to stay far, far away from him.

"Let's go eat some crappy food," I said, trying to ignore Bert's eyes on me. "I'm hungry."

I started towards the small buffet table, helping myself to some chocolate chip pancakes, which were cold. I passed on the juice and just took a glass of water. Mikey got some eggs and bacon, as did Frank. Ray got pancakes, too.

We settled down at a table, and dug into our food. Right after I took the first bite, I practically spit it back out. The pancakes tasted like dust. I forced myself to swallow, then gulped down half my glass of water.

By the looks on the faces of the others, their meals weren't much better. I managed to down two of my three pancakes. I couldn't make myself eat the last one.

"Anybody know the time?" Mikey asked, pushing his half eaten breakfast away.

Ray checked his watch. "6:00. We still have close to four hours."

Frank groaned. "What are we going to do for _four hours?"_

Ray shrugged. "Why don't we go back up to the room, try and get some more sleep? I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."

I nodded and got to my feet.

The others got up as well. "Where do you think we put our dishes?" Mikey asked.

"Leave them there," A voice said behind us. "The cooking staff will take care of them."

We turned around to see Bert standing there.

"Thanks," Frank said shortly, taking a small step in my direction. "We were just leaving."

Bert stepped towards me, his blue eyes meeting mine. I tore my eyes away, but I could still feel his gaze on me. "Where are you going?"

"Upstairs," Mikey responded, grabbing my arm and tugging me out of the room. Frank and Ray were just behind us.

"What is his deal?" My brother asked angrily as we climbed the stairs. "Why can't he just leave you alone?"

"I don't know if you've seen the way he's been looking at you, Gerard," Frank added sharply. "but he obviously just wants to get in your pants. He doesn't care if you don't want it, he just wants his hands all over you, and that's not okay, especially if he doesn't have your consent."

I didn't think it was possible for me to fall any more in love with Frank Iero. I was wrong.

We entered the room and crashed on our beds. I shut my eyes, trying to sleep, but my mind was too loud tonight. I didn't have my earbuds, so I had nothing to help lull me to sleep. To distract myself, I tried counting backwards from one hundred, but that didn't work. I ended up replaying the events of the day in my head over and over again, trying to make sense of why we were here.

"Gerard?"

My eyes snapped open. Mikey was sitting up on the other side of the bed, staring at me. "Are you okay?" He whispered. "You keep tossing and turning, and I couldn't tell if you were still awake or if you were having another nightmare."

I sat up. "No nightmares. I just can't fall asleep."

My little brother sighed. "Me neither, but Frank and Ray have been out for about half and hour now. I was just making sure you were alright."

"Thanks. What about you? Are you okay?"

"I guess."

"You know I love you, right, Mikey?"

"Yeah. I love you too."

It was quiet for a moment before I said, "Is there anything bothering you?"

He shook his head.

I lay down again, and shut my eyes. A few moments later, I drifted off.

. . . .

_Finally, we reached him. He had drifted downstream, where the current was heavier and threatening to pull him under. It was a deeper area, and he was clawing at the grass for dear life._

_I was ahead of the others. I saw him first._

_Bob's eyes widened when he saw me._

_"Gerard!_ _Gerard, help me! Gee, please!"_

_I sprinted towards him, but I didn't get there in time. My hand was outstretched, so close to his, when the current swept him away and under the water, never to be seen again._

"Gerard! Hey, come on, man, wake up!"

I awoke to somebody shaking me and begging me to wake up. My eyes snapped open, and I saw the worried faces of Ray and Frank looming over me. Frank had been the one speaking.

"Are you okay?" Ray asked. "You just started screaming, and then you sank into this uncontrollable shaking and crying."

I was crying? I reached up to touch my face, which was wet. I couldn't stop the tears from flowing or will the shaking to stop, even though I really wanted to, mostly because Frank was looking at me with a mix of concern and pity. I rolled onto my side, turning away from them so that they couldn't see my face. God, I wanted to disappear.

"I'm going to go find Mikey," Ray said, sensing my embarrassment. "Want to come, Frank?"

Silence.

The sound of footsteps, and then the door opening and shutting.

Silence.

And then, "Gerard."

I didn't move. Frank spoke again.

"Gerard."

I sat up. "What? Couldn't you just go with Ray to find Mikey or something?" I snapped.

He just shut his eyes and sighed. Then, he said, "Gerard, I'm not leaving you alone as a sniveling mess. I'm going to stay here until you're okay."

I avoided his eyes. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," I muttered, trying to fight back the tears. I shifted positions so that I was sitting cross legged. I couldn't cry in front of him anymore. Boys weren't supposed to cry.

"It's okay, Gee," Frank whispered.

My head snapped up, and I looked at him, surprised by the use of my nickname. He just chuckled halfheartedly.

And then, he did something that surprised me even more.

He climbed onto my lap, burying his face in my neck and holding me close. "It's okay," He murmured. "You can cry, if you need to, or if you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen."

I broke down after that. I couldn't get Bob's screams out of my head, and the image of him dying wouldn't leave the back of my eyelids. Frank never let go of me, not once, he just held me and rubbed my back and gently ran his fingers through my hair. I held onto him, pulling him even closer to me.

Once I calmed down, he asked me, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Okay," Frank said, not unkindly. "Is there anything I can do for you?" He moved his face so that it was level to mine, the tips of our noses barely touching, his lips just centimeters away from my own.

I couldn't breathe. I wanted to kiss him really, really badly.

I was leaning forwards to close the gap between us when the door swung open.

Frank practically fell off of my lap. My face was burning. For the second time today, I wanted to curl up and die.

D stood in the doorway, his eyebrows raised. Ray and Mikey stood just behind him. Mikey was smirking, and Ray's mouth was agape.

"I'm sorry," D said, amused. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, no," Frank said, getting to his feet, his face bright red. "Not at all. What do you want?"

"It's 10:43," He replied. "We have about two minutes to get downstairs. You're about to get all those answers you've been begging for."

He walked off. Mikey shot me a sheepish look and followed him, with Ray on his heels.

Without a second glance at me, Frank hurried after them. With a sigh, I pulled myself out of bed and followed.


	5. Bang, Bang, You're Dead

The second I stepped out the door, I knew something was off.

The first thing I noticed was the darkness. Most of the lights had been shut off downstairs, for there was only a sliver of golden light casting ghostly shadows behind the crooked chandelier.

The second thing I noticed was the silence. I'm not talking about the type of quiet where there's just no people speaking. It was almost completely silent, for the only sound was our footsteps and the soft creak of the stairs. I didn't hear the laughter or speaking from the dining area. I didn't hear the sound of pages flipping or the occasional sigh from the check in desk. I didn't even hear the squeaking of mice, as if even the rodents had been frightened into silence.

We reached the bottom of the staircase. I glanced at the check in desk. Roslyn was gone.

I looked towards the dining area. Darkness stared back at me.

"Come on," D said, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. "It's this way."

We followed him into the dining area. Mikey walked by my side, and Ray and Frank were in front of us, just behind D. Frank hadn't even looked at me since we'd left the room. I wondered if I'd done or said something wrong, though I couldn't imagine what.

We passed through the deserted room, and D unlocked a door on the other side. He pushed it open to reveal another set of stairs, and started down them. We were close behind him.

At the bottom of the stairs looked to be what was an ordinary basement that any family could have. There were two couches and a recliner sitting around a coffee table. A television was mounted over a fireplace. Scattered around the room were pieces of unused furniture and piles of boxes. There was a light on the ceiling too, so that was a plus.

Sitting on the nicer of the couches was Team One. Brendon and Ryan kept giving each other looks, exchanging hidden messages that I couldn't decode. Dylan was tapping his foot impatiently and was staring at the ceiling. Olivia was crying again.

Sitting on the armrest was a girl I'd never seen before. She was Mexican, like D, and her black hair was braided down her shoulder. She was wearing sunglasses, too, but I wasn't sure why, because we were inside. She was watching Brendon and Ryan, as if trying to evaluate their expressions.

"Take a seat wherever you like," D told us. At the sound of his voice, the girl's head jerked in our direction. She smiled, and peered over her sunglasses.

_"Hola, D. Me sorprende que hayas llegado antes que X,"_ She said.

_"Hola, M,"_ D responded, looking like he had wanted to avoid the conversation.

The girl, M, her smile just grew. _"¿Estás emocionado? Para la competencia?_ "

_"No puedo decir que estoy emocionado."_

M threw her head back and laughed.

_"Tengo confianza en mi equipo,"_ He added quickly.

She just smiled. _"No te sorprendas cuando todos tus jugadores están muertos para el final de la semana, hermano_."

They were speaking too quickly for me to translate every word they were saying, for I only knew little to no Spanish, and I'd learned it all in eighth grade. By the grave expression on D's face, though, I wasn't sure I wanted to know what exactly they were talking about.

The two continued speaking in Spanish as Mikey, Ray, Frank, and I sat down on the other couch. We heard footsteps on the stairs, and Team Two came into view, led by a taller, leaner version of D. He was pretty attractive, if we're being honest, with dark hair that curled at the nape of his neck and a jawline that could cut glass. With a smile, he began to speak in Spanish to the others. I guessed he was X.

Dylan scooted over to make room for Lindsey next to him, and Jimmy sat down at her feet. Bert and Kia approached us. "Make room," Bert said, and I scooted closer to Mikey. He seated himself next to me, a little too close for my comfort. Kia managed to squeeze herself in between Bert and the armrest.

"He should be arriving any moment now," M sighed, checking her watch. "It's 10:47. He's rarely late."

"So it's a he," Brendon commented. "Nice to know."

X glared at him. "Quiet, forehead. Nobody asked for your input."

"And we didn't ask to get pulled into your crazy games," Ryan snapped back. "So why don't you lay off, buddy?"

X just shook his head. "You're not worth the waste of breath."

"How much longer do you think it'll be until he arrives?" Bert asked.

"Shouldn't be too much longer," D responded, his eyes on the door.

"Does he have a name?" Frank pressed.

"Of course he has a name," Bert scoffed. Frank just rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't talking to you."

"Pretend like I care, midget."

"Shut up, both of you," Lindsey snapped.

"Don't tell me what to do, Ballato-" Frank began angrily.

"Take a chill pill, Iero, she didn't do anything to you," Dylan barked.

Frank gave a short laugh. "You have _no idea._ "

"Look, Frank, I don't know what you think I did, but whatever it was, _please_ don't be afraid to share it with me," Lindsey said with an eye roll.

"Oh, Linds, I'm sure you did nothing wrong," Kia said, fixing her eyes on Frank's face. "He's just still bitter about sophomore year."

It might've been my imagination, but I'm almost sure I saw Frank pale. Last year had been hard for both of us; It'd been the year we broke off our friendship without any final words.

I wonder if, especially after the events of the morning, the two of us could've been more than friends if we hadn't messed it up like we did.

"I don't know what you're talking about," He said slowly, though I was fairly sure he knew what they talking about just as well as I did.

"You know, when Gerard here ditched you to hang out with us," Kia said, her eyes still locked with his. "When he finally realized that you were nothing special, _that you weren't worth his time._ "

That wasn't true. That wasn't true at all, but nobody knew it but me. I wanted to turn to Frank, to tell him that Kia was a liar, a dirty, rotten liar, that he should know better than to believe her, that if anything, he was too good for me, and I wasn't worth his time because he's a better person than I could ever be, and I didn't deserve him.

My throat was bone dry, however, and I couldn't find the words to speak as I watched him set his jaw, his eyes clouded with sadness, hurt, and anger. "You don't know the first thing about me."

Kia just smiled. Knowing her, she'd just set something up, and poor Frank had fallen into her cruel little trap. She delivered the next words mockingly, each word filled with cruel humor.

"Please, Frank. I know that you weren't that upset about it just because you two had been best friends. We all know the real reason is because you're in love with Gerard."

Heavy silence fell over the room after that. I wasn't quite sure what to say or do, other than stare at him. His cheeks were red, and he met my eyes for a nanosecond before pulling his gaze away and directing it at the floor.

I tried my best to ignore the feeling of my heart hammering against my chest. I silently begged him to say something, _anything_ _,_ though there was a small part of my brain, and an even bigger part of my heart, that was waiting for some kind of confirmation that what Kia had said was true.

After what felt like forever, Frank finally spoke. "I'm not in love with Gerard."

Whelp, those weren't definitely the words I wanted to hear.

Olivia snorted. "Please. It's written all over your face."

"At first, I couldn't believe you liked boys," Kia gabbed, leaning forwards. "I was surprised that you couldn't see how messed it was, how disgusting it was-"

I cut her off right then and there, because I couldn't bear to hear her speak like that to him anymore, and I couldn't handle all the horrible things she was saying about queer people, because I myself was very, very gay. My heart had gone from beating incredibly fast to frozen. All the butterflies in my stomach had died, and I felt like I wanted to vomit. The only person who I'd ever told was Mikey, and coming out to him had even been hard for me to do. I'd told him in eighth grade, and he told me that he still loved me and supported me no matter what, that there was nothing wrong with me, that I was perfect just the way I was.

"It's not disgusting," I interrupted. All eyes averted from Frank to me.

To my surprise, Dylan spoke up next. After clearing his throat uncomfortably, he said, "Yeah, but, isn't it, um, like, not supposed to work that way? I mean, come on, man, it's Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve."

"Well, you know, Mr. Straighty McHetero, it's called treating people who don't fit into your little box with some respect, not bringing them down with some stupid little joke that nobody really thinks is funny," I replied.

He glared at me. "You definitely aren't straight, Gerard."

"I mean, neither are your Mom's teeth."

Dylan was on his feet in an instant, charging me like a bull who'd just had a red flag waved in front of his face. "I'm gonna kick your-"

And then a gunshot sounded as a a bullet buried itself in his chest. As the front of his white shirt turned scarlet, he sank to his knees, his shaking hands clasped over his chest, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

I couldn't help but be reminded of another time, only years ago, that I'd witnessed death.

_"Gerard!_ _Gerard, help me! Gee, please!"_

Lindsey was next to him in a second, easing him to the ground. She was blinking back tears and whispering, "Hey, Dylan. It's gonna be okay, alright? It's going to be fine. Just- just close your eyes, okay?"

Seconds passed as slowly as years. My heart was thundering in my chest, my head spinning. I wondered who'd fired the gun, and a terrifying feeling in my gut told me I'd find out in mere minutes.

What if they attacked Mikey? I couldn't let them hurt my little brother, nor Ray or Frank. If anything happened to any of them, I would never, ever be able to forgive myself.

Dylan's body went still on the floor. Lindsey was still bent over him, silent tears dripping down her face and onto his blood soaked shirt.

Somebody behind us laughed softly to themselves, and then spoke. I was too petrified to turn and see who it was being the second I heard the voice, I knew.

"I'm sorry about that, Lindsey, but I can't have my players killing each other just yet."

And suddenly, I wasn't in the disgusting old hotel anymore. I couldn't smell mothballs and nicotine. I couldn't feel Bert's thigh pressed uncomfortably against mine. I couldn't see Dylan's body laying on the floor.

I could hear the same voice, though, but different words tore from their throat as if their life depended on it.

_"Gerard!_ _Gerard, help me! Gee, please!"_

I heard the roar of water as it pulled my friend into the ocean, taking him away forever. I felt the cold air on my skin, and I was shivering from the wind and freezing water dripping from my hair, which had been black at the time. I could hear my friends speaking around me, asking where he was, asking if I'd seen him. My brain couldn't process the words, only replay the moment where I lost him over and over again in my head.

And then I was back, so suddenly, like I'd never gotten lost in my mind in the first place. He was standing in front of us now, his eyes scanning each of us slowly. When he met my gaze, I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut and pretend that none of this was happening, this couldn't be happening, no, no, no...

_"Gerard!_ _Gerard, help me! Gee, please!"_

The words echoed in my head over and over again, and I couldn't escape this nightmare. When I closed my eyes, I saw the night my friend died. When I kept them open, I saw the same person in the flesh, like he'd never drowned that night in the first place.

"My friends," Bob Bryar said, a small smile on his lips. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

 


	6. Ex-Friend Till The End

Seeing Bob again was like having one of those dreams where you're falling and falling and falling and you only wake up once you've hit the ground, your heart beating uncontrollably fast. When you're laying in your bed in the dark, you wonder to yourself how it'd felt so real if none if it had really happened in the first place.

It didn't seem like it could be real; I'd seen him die, seen him drown in the river. His last pleas for help haunted me every night. Bob Bryar was dead. Bob Bryar was standing right in front of me.

I felt a rush of anger at him suddenly, for faking his death and causing me immense sadness and pain, for leaving me with nothing but nightmares of the night he had died.

But Bob wasn't dead. He'd never been dead.

At the front of the room, he chuckled. "Look at you all, gaping at me like fish who'd just been pulled out of the water. I guess that's the perfect metaphor, huh? A fish that'd just been pulled out of the water." He laughed again at that.

Mikey spoke first, his voice shaky. "You're supposed to be dead."

Bob raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't think that's how you greet an old friend, is it, Mikes?"

I felt like I was disconnected from myself, in a way, like I was staring at the scene through a pool of murky water. This wasn't real. This _couldn't_ be real.

"Why didn't you come back to Belleville?" Ray asked. "Where have you been, if you didn't drown that night in the river?"

Bob smiled. "I've been around."

"Why are we here?" Brendon snapped. "Is there something you want from us?"

"There is, in fact. I've been planning this for awhile now, and X, M, and D over there have helped me greatly, with no shame, I'm sure," Bob responded, gesturing at the siblings without so much as glancing at them.

"I've brought you all here because each of you has managed to make my life miserable, in one way or another. I'm not going to go into detail as to what you all did, because you know what you did, and I hope it haunted you. I'm here for revenge, and revenge is what I will have. You'll be _sorry_ that you hurt me for your own sickening entertainment, for your own sad little pleasure. I'm going to show you what miserable really is, and you'll all be wishing that you never met me in the first place.

"We're going to play a game," He went on. "You three teams of four will be set against each other, and let me make the stakes clear right now; You're playing for your life. Over the course of the next week, including tonight, you're going to be given one task to complete per day. Whichever team wins the most rounds gets to live; As for the others, I get the pleasure of killing each player." Bob paused for a moment. "That is, if you don't kill each other first. Some days, your occupations will be dangerous. Other days, they'll be for my soul entertainment."

My breathing was shallow now, and I desperately tried to calm myself down. Half of my brain was screaming at me to get up and flee from the room. The reasonable part of my mind, however, reminded me that Bob still had a gun, and he could take me out as easily as he had Dylan.

I spoke without thinking. "You can't do that. That's illegal."

The corners of Bob's mouth twitched upwards. "You really think I care about the law at this point, Gerard? You've always been so oblivious to the real world, always living in your stupid little fantasies."

"You're powerless without that gun."

His face twisted into an ugly snarl, and he strode across the room to me, leaning down so that his blue eyes were only inches away from my hazel ones. I could fear his sour breath on my face, and I could see the faint, small scars on his cheek.

"I'm powerless? I could put a bullet through your little brother's head right now, and I wouldn't so much as flinch. I'd even laugh as I watch you flail around, trying to save him. Think again about who's the powerless one here. I have more power than you know," He said, his voice low enough for it to be intimidating, but loud enough for everybody in the room to hear him.

Bob straightened and spun on his heel, walking back to the front of the room. "I suggest you all head back up to your rooms and stay there. Tonight's game doesn't start until the evening."

We got to our feet silently. I could still feel Bob's hot breath on my face. His words echoed in my head.

_I could put a bullet through your little brother's head right now, and I wouldn't so much as flinch. I'd even laugh as I watch you flail around, trying to save him._

I would do what Bob wanted. I had to, if it meant keeping Mikey safe. There was no other option.

. . . .

Almost immediately after D dropped us back at our room, I asked my brother for directions to the shower. I couldn't stay in this disgusting hotel room a second longer, though I knew the bathrooms were probably worse. Anyways, I needed silence to think.

"It's down the hall to the right," Mikey responded. "You might want to drop by the front desk first, though, and see if Roslyn has any shampoo she can give you. There's none in there. The soap's pretty gnarly, too. I didn't even use it."

That's how I ended up waiting at the empty check in desk for Roslyn to get back from wherever she'd ventured off to. It'd been eight minutes, and I was thinking about making the best of the water, when Lindsey marched up next to me without a word.

It didn't seem like she planned on speaking to me. Instead, she just leaned over the counter. When she couldn't find what she was looking for, she just sighed angrily and slumped against the surface, defeated.

"Hey, Lindsey," I said finally, awkwardly shoving my hands into my pockets. I could tell that she'd been crying even more.

She didn't even look at me. "Hello, Gerard."

"What're you looking for?"

"A cigarette. I need a smoke real bad, but Roslyn either took her pack with her or finished it, because there's nothing there other than a stupid People magazine."

I nodded. "Any idea where she went?"

Lindsey shook her head. "Nope. Why? Hoping to get lucky tonight before Bryar shoots her, too?"

"What? No, Lindsey, I need soap for the showers. Mikey said there's none in there."

She just shook her head, smiling. "I wouldn't expect you to just hop into bed with somebody you barely know, anyways." She met my eyes. "I used to like you a lot, you know. I tried to let you know, too, but you just never got the hint."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty gay." It didn't bother me that I'd just come out to her; After the earlier events, I was pretty sure she knew.

"Oh, I know, Gerard." She looked at her feet. "You know if you hadn't gotten so worked up about a few harmless jokes, Dylan would still be alive."

I felt myself tense up. "It's not my fault that he's dead, Lindsey. Don't try and pin this on me."

She scowled and opened her mouth to respond, but somebody behind us spoke first.

"There's so much space in this hotel, and you two decide to argue in front of my desk? Go work this out upstairs, children," Roslyn said, dropping a bag of groceries on top of her magazine and taking a swig of Diet Coke.

Lindsey rolled her eyes. "We're only a couple years younger than you. Got a cigarette?"

"Always do." Roslyn opened a drawer and pulled out a pack. She pulled out the last two and handed one to Lindsey. "Sorry," She told me as she lit her cigarette. "Not enough for three."

"It's fine," I replied, though I was sure she had another pack in their somewhere. I'd never smoked before, but I was going to die anyways, so why not?

Lindsey lifted her cigarette to her lips and took a long drag off it. She fixed me with her dark brown eyes.

"I'm going to get back at you," She said. "For Dylan, if not for myself."

And with that, she turned and walked off, leaving me feeling like I'd just lost a friend, which I probably just had. She didn't even look back.

Roslyn exhaled a puff of smoke loudly. "Man, dude, I don't know what you did, but it must've been bad. She doesn't seem like the type of person you want as an enemy."

I shook my head. "She's not."

"Was she your girlfriend?"

"No. No, definitely not."

Roslyn raised an eyebrow at me, but didn't say anything. "Do you want a cigarette? I lied about being out. I've got more in here somewhere."

"Can't. I came down here to ask you if you've got soap and shampoo for the shower."

She rifles through her drawers for a moment before finally coming up with a box of soap. "This is all I've got, buddy. You'll have to make the most of it."

I took it from her. "Thanks."

"It's nothing. And, be warned, that bathroom is disgusting."

"This whole place is disgusting."

She smiled a little bit at that, and pulled a new magazine out of her shopping bag.

. . . .

Roslyn was right; the shower was gross. The floor was covered in stains, and dirt filled the cracks in the tile. There wasn't even a drain, just a small hole in the floor.

I took the fastest shower of my life, but still lathered the soap on my body and ran it through my hair multiple times in an attempt to clean it. I probably should've showered before I left the house, but I normally did that before bed, and I'd had no idea that I wouldn't be returning home tonight.

There wasn't any lotion, so I just dried off with a limp towel and dressed. Normally, the steam from the shower cleared my head, but that water had been freezing.

I did have time to think, though. Worries for what Bob had to come had filled my head the entire time I was in the shower, but as I stood in front of the mirror, trying to use my fingers to comb out the tangles in my hair, my thoughts drifted to Frank.

I'd missed him. He always managed to make me laugh, even when I was upset. Frank had always given great hugs, too. I used to tease him for having to stand on his tiptoes to reach the hall pass, and for being the only boy who couldn't touch the basketball net in gym. In seventh grade, I had began to notice him more, like the way he ran his hands through his hair when he was frustrated and how his clothes fit him rather nicely, especially those tight jeans.

We were at his house when it finally set in that I had a crush on him. We'd just gone downstairs for breakfast, and he'd been having trouble reaching the cereal on the top shelf. Absentmindedly, I'd thought it was cute.

With one more glance in the mirror, I decided I was satisfied with how I looked, and hung my towel up. I decided to just leave the soap in the shower in case anybody else needed it later on.

I threw open the bathroom door and practically ran right into Bert. He grinned at me. "Sorry, Gerard. I didn't know you were in there."

_Sure you didn't._ "It's fine," I replied.

"I apologize if I was acting strange earlier. I like to get a good look at the people I'm surrounded by, you know? Jimmy's the only one I really know. We went to school together," He told me. I avoided his eyes.

"Well, you certainly got a good look, didn't you?"

Bert took a step closer to me. He smelt of lemon, and carried the faint stench of weed.

"I'll take an even closer look at you, Gerard, if you let me."

"I have to go," I said quickly, darting around him and down the hallway. I burst into the hotel room, slamming the door shut behind me.

"You okay?"

I looked up to see Frank sitting on his bed, a pad of paper open on his lap. He was twirling a pen between his fingers. Mikey and Ray were nowhere to be found.

"Yeah. Where are Mikey and Ray?" I responded.

If I didn't know Frank as well as I did, I wouldn't have noticed the way his face fell the slightest bit. "I don't know. They didn't tell me."

I seated myself next to him. "What're you working on?"

He flipped it over. "Nothing. It's not important."

"If it's so unimportant, why can't I see it?"

Frank was silent for a moment. "I'm just writing down my feelings." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he turned scarlet. "Not in, like, the diary way. I'm writing music. It just really helps me get my feelings out because I'm not really good at talking to people about the deep stuff."

"Do you still play guitar?"

He looked at me like I was crazy. "Of course I still play guitar, Gerard. I've gotten so much better at it. You should come over sometime and-" He stopped himself, avoiding my gaze. An awkward silence settled over the two of us.

"Look, Frank." I said finally, breaking the ice. "I'm really sorry about ditching you last year. I was angry and stupid and I really missed you. I regret it every single day of my life. I didn't mean to be a jerk."

"It's okay." His hazel eyes met mine. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Did you and Lindsey ever, you know, date?"

I laughed. "No. No, of course not." I was silent for a moment before adding, "I actually only like boys."

Frank smiled shyly and picked at the skin around his nails. "I'm bisexual. I've never told anyone, though, because my parents don't like it."

"I do. I like everything about you." _A lot._

He blushed, and I could feel my face getting warm.

Finally, Frank said, "I missed you, Gee. You were my best friend."

"We can be like that again, if you want. Best friends," I told him. I didn't want to be just best friends, though. I wanted to be more than that. I wanted to hold him in my arms while he slept, give him forehead kisses, and share milkshakes with him at the diner downtown. The urge to be _with_ him was going to eat me alive, especially when he was sitting right in front of me, smiling that adorable little smile, his cheeks tinted the lightest shade of red.

"I'd like that," Frank said. "I'd like that a lot."


	7. sLAUGHTER

Rain had always been high on my list of fantastical things. The soft sound of drops hitting the roof, the way the city lights reflected off the water; I'd always loved all of it. Rain seemed to sever the border between fantasy and reality a little bit. It was kind of fascinating, how the little things could make you feel as if you were in a different world.

Frank and I were laying in one of the hotel beds. We'd been catching up for a couple hours, after lunch. Mikey and Ray had been surprised to see us as best friends again, but I could tell they were happy about it. I didn't think I could ever get tired of hearing Frank's voice, or the feeling of joy that overcame me when I made him laugh or smile. I wanted to freeze this moment. I wanted to talk with him like this forever, as if we'd never stopped being friends.

I told him about how much I hated being stuck in the popular circle, and he told me how much he hated seeing me with them. "You were my best friend. I told you everything, and then you were just gone. You were like _my_ person, and I was yours. And then suddenly, we were just strangers with secrets. Without you, I felt kind of lost," He confessed.

"I didn't mean for it to go as far as it did," I told him. "I was an awful friend to you, and I got what I deserved by losing you."

After that, I asked him about his new tattoos, and he answered eagerly. He shyly told me that it'd be cool if I designed one for him to get, and that led into a conversation about my art.

After that, we were silent. I was debating whether to ask him if he'd been in any relationships over the past year, and against my better judgement, I did.

"Have you dated anybody in the past couple months?" I asked, trying to pass the question off as casual. "Or, like, do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend now?" I stared at the ceiling.

Frank chuckled and covered his eyes. "I don't have a girlfriend, not anymore."

_Not anymore._ The words echoed in my head, creating the slightest tear in my heart.

"It was Jamia Nestor," He said, turning to me me. "We went out for, like, two and a half months. I ended it with her because I had feelings for somebody else."

"Mind sharing who?"

He blushed. "I don't really want to say his name, but let's call him Tortilla Chip, because I sure would like to take a bite out of him."

We both burst out laughing at that. Tortilla Chip was very lucky.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," I called, still laughing.

Ray opened the door. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Frank said, sitting up. "What's up, Ray?"

"Dinner's been served. D told us to eat quickly, because we don't have much time."

We pulled ourselves out of bed and headed downstairs. Aside from a sniveling Olivia, we were the only ones in the dining area.

Dinner was an awful over cooked Salisbury steak that I could barely cut through. Mikey was the one who managed to tear through it with his knife. "I'm not even going to try to eat that," He said. That left the Lima beans, which I was pretty sure the cooks threw in just to be mean.

"Bob knows I hate Lima beans," Frank grumbled. "And he knows very well that I'm vegan, so I couldn't have this steak even if I wanted it."

"Didn't you get bacon at breakfast?" I asked.

"Yeah, but I didn't eat it."

"Why'd you get it then?"

He avoided eye contact with me. "Doesn't matter."

"You know," Mikey said, absentmindedly. "I was talking to Lindsey around 8:00 this morning, and she said she was upset that she got to breakfast late and there wasn't any bacon left and- _Oh my God, Frank._ " He started laughing.

Chuckling, Ray punched Frank in the arm. "You're so extra."

"Did you know that bacon was her favorite food?" I asked, smiling.

"Maybe," Frank replied.

We were in the process of downing our Lima beans, somehow, when D joined us at our table.

"Alright," He said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You've had enough time to eat. Use the restroom if you need to, because it's time we leave. Team Two is five steps ahead of you slowpokes."

That's how, minutes later, we were in D's car again, heading away from the hotel. I couldn't help but but feel relieved that we were leaving the place behind.

"Where are we going?" Frank asked. He'd taken the front seat again.

"You'll see when we get there," D replied simply.

We rode in silence. It wasn't the good kind of quiet either. It was the kind of quiet where you could practically taste the fear in the air. Everyone was too nervous to say something.

Slowly, buildings began to pop up around us, and the next thing I knew, we were driving through Newark. D went a bit further before parking in front of a large building. The sun was beginning to set outside, but I could still read the letters thats spelt out the name of the place. _Laser Station_. I'd been here before. I'd had my thirteenth birthday party here.

Mikey stared at it for a moment. "Are we seriously playing laser tag?"

D laughed. "Oh, no. We're not playing laser tag."

We piled out of the car. D opened the truck and pulled out a shoebox. Then, he led us inside.

The course was just as I'd remembered it. There were dividers to hide behind, lit up in neon colors, and the lights were turned off. Surprisingly, there was nobody else around. Not even Team Two.

D wove through the obstacles and led us into a corner that was lit up in blue. He set the box on the floor and pulled out four small lights. They each had a button on the top a clip on the back. "Clip these onto your shirts and press the top button to switch them on," He instructed. "They shine brighter than you think."

He was right. A brilliant, blue light exploded from my light, which I'd clipped onto the hem of my T-shirt.

"You're team color is blue. Team One is green, and Team Two is red. You're going to take out as many of them as you can before you get shot," He said, pausing a moment before adding, " _if_ you get shot."

I crossed my arms. "And we're supposed to use what against them?"

D glared at me. "I'm getting to that, Way. Clam yourself."

He unpacked the rest of the box, which was four guns. They weren't laser guns.

"These are taser guns," D told us, handing them out. "Don't try to use them on M, X, or I. We're all wearing protective clothing. Carbon fiber pants and vests."

"What about us?" Frank questioned. "Do we get any protection?"

"No."

"But what if we're shot in the heart?" Ray exclaimed, turning his taser carefully in his hands.

"Then you will probably die. Tasers to the chest can be deadly." D didn't even flinch as he said the words, as if he'd rehearsed this speech.

"Most of the time, you can't be killed by taser, and you normally won't pass out either," He went on. "They take over muscle control, and you're going to want to tase your opponent for around thirty seconds. When you fall after getting tased, you could possibly be killed, but it's more likely that you'll just get knocked out."

He checked his watch. "Team One should be here by now, but M can be pretty unpredictable sometimes."

D's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. "I was right. You've got one minute to prepare yourselves."

I looked down at the taser gun in my hand.

"We're going to split into teams," Frank instructed. "Mikey, Ray, you go after Team One. Gerard and I will try and take down Team Two. Got it?"

We all nodded. _It's just like laser tag,_ I tried to tell myself. _Just with a lot more pain._

"Ten seconds," D announced, leaning back against the wall.

My mind raced. I hadn't played laser tag, much less shot a gun, since I was thirteen.

"Go."

Almost instantly, the dividers changed from cold neon to a black screen. Our names, along with a big number eleven, appeared on them in bright white.

Mikey and Ray immediately disappeared to the left. Frank looked at me. "Ready, Gee?"

My grip on my taser tightened. "Ready as I'll ever be."

We dashed left, weaving in and out of the dividers. About every thirty seconds, Frank, who was just ahead of me, would pause and check out our surroundings. I would glance behind us to make sure there was nobody following us. So far, the two of us were doing pretty good.

We were repeating this procedure for the eleventh time, when a scream split the silence. Around us, the number eleven dropped to ten, and Olivia's name flashed red before disappearing completely.

"One down, ten to go," Frank muttered, running his finger over the trigger of his gun.

"Somebody from Team Two got her," I whispered. "That must be why her name turned red before it disappeared."

"Do you think she's dead?" He asked me. I only shrugged.

We continued to make our way through the arena, now stopping every fifteen seconds instead of ten. After a couple more minutes, Jimmy's name turned blue before vanishing. The number on screen dropped to nine. At least Mikey and Ray were okay.

Almost instantly after I had the thought, Ray's name left the screen after flashing red. I prayed that he wasn't dead, only unconscious.

Suddenly, Frank stopped. "Turn around," He whispered. "and run."

We took off through the arena. I could hear footsteps just behind us. We wove through the dividers quickly, hoping to lose whoever it was. I glanced over my shoulder. It was Ryan and Brendon, and they were closer than I'd hoped.

I collided with somebody, and I heard Frank yell, "Down!" The three of us threw ourselves to the ground, barely avoiding a set of probes.

"Mikey," I said, breathlessly to my brother. "You okay? Is Ray okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I didn't get there in time to catch him as he was falling, but Lindsey didn't get his heart."

"Ballato ruins _everything,_ " Frank grumbled as we got to our feet. I fired my taser gun, aiming at Ryan's legs, hoping to only knock him out. I missed by centimeters.

Next to me, Mikey went rigid. Two sets of probes had ebbed themselves in his shoulder. A cry ripped itself from his throat, and I grabbed his arm, lowering him safely to the ground. Around us, Mikey's name disappeared, flashing a brilliant bright green, and the onscreen number lowered to seven. My little brother was out cold, but still alive.

Another scream filled the air as Brendon collapsed. Ryan caught him just in time. Frank had managed to shoot him.

"Let's get out of here," The shorter boy told me. We took off.

Our sprinting was just beginning to slow to a jog as we turned the corner, running right into Lindsey Ballato and Kia Muller. The red lights on their shirts were blinding.

Lindsey opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, I fired my taser, and a set of probes buried themselves in her stomach. She didn't scream, but a look of surprise crossed her face as she collapsed.

Kia glared at me, and fired her gun. I dove sideways, but wasn't quick enough to dodge the probes before they hit my chest.

I went board stiff. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, no matter how hard I tried. I watched Kia's face stretch into a smile just as I began to fall backwards.

My head hit the ground first, and then everything went black.

 


	8. Let's Fade Away Together, One Dream At A Time

_I stood in a room filled with darkness. It was cold, and in my hand, I held a gun._

_The silence was suddenly broken by a voice calling my name. "Gerard? Gee, where are you?"_

_Frank Iero stumbled out of the shadows, his face brightening instantly when he saw me. "Gerard! Stop keeping your phone on silent, you had me worried!"_

_He walked towards me, and I slid the gun into my belt. "Are you okay, baby?" He asked. "You keep coming back here."_

_"Yeah," I replied. "Yeah, I'm fine."_

_He looked up at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes and kissed me. I forced back a smile, because he was almost too short to reach my lips. These gentle, slow kisses were my favorites._

_I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer to me as the kiss deepened. His hands slid under my shirt, his fingers leaving warmth behind as they glided over my bare skin. I never wanted him to stop touching me and I wanted to touch him and it'd be really great if I could get this shirt off..._

_Frank was already on it. He broke our kiss and tugged my shirt over my head. He pressed his soft lips to the skin on my neck, and I moaned softly. The sensation just felt so_ good _, and I could never get enough, no matter how many kisses he left on my body._

_And suddenly, I wasn't in control anymore. Against my own will, I shoved Frank away from me. The confusion on his face was obvious, as was the hurt in his eyes. "Did I- did I do something wrong?" He asked, tripping over his words._

_I started towards him, still a mere puppet of some unknown force, and pushed him up against the wall, kissing him violently. He gasped, surprised._

_I fumbled with the gun on my belt, finally pulling it free. I pressed the barrel of it to his temple, and pulled the trigger without hesitation._

_Frank's body slid to the ground, and my senses returned to me. I collapsed next to him, horrified at what I'd done._

_I could still taste him on my lips._

I sat up in bed, gasping for breath. Tears stung my eyes. I was back in the hotel room. My head was pounding, and the room began to spin.

I stumbled out the door and to the bathroom, where I splashed some cool water on my face, hoping to clear my head. Finally, after about a minute, the room steadied itself, but the headache remained.

There was a knock on the door. "Gee?"

Frank. I squeezed my eyes shut and didn't respond. I couldn't think clearly, and I didn't trust myself to see him, not after the nightmare I'd just had.

He waited a moment before saying, "I'm going to come in now."

The door opened, and Frank entered the room. He looked half asleep. His dark hair was a mess.

"Did I wake you up, baby?" I muttered. My face heated up instantly. I hadn't meant for that part to slip out.

"Well, you weren't exactly quiet," He replied, blushing furiously. "Mikey's out; hasn't woken up since he's gotten tased. I think he's okay, but he needs the sleep. I'm pretty sure Ray's fine, too. It'd be impossible to snore that loudly if he wasn't."

I cracked a smile. "Did you win?"

"No. Bert did," He sighed. "Are you okay, Gerard? It's, like, three in the morning."

I took a shaky breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

_"Are you okay, baby? You keep coming back here."_

_"Yeah," I replied. "Yeah, I'm fine."_

I shook my head, trying to forget the memory of the dream.

Frank took a step towards me. "Did you have the nightmare again?"

"Not that one," I whispered, staring at my feet.

"Do you want to talk about this new one?"

_I killed you, Frankie. I had a dream where you were my boyfriend, and I killed you._ Yeah, there was no way I'd be telling him that. "Not really, but thanks."

We went back to the hotel room, and I lied back down on my bed, staring at the ceiling, knowing that sleep would be impossible.

"Is there anything I can do?" Frank asked. He was standing next to the bed, a worried look on his face.

I knew I should tell him to go back to sleep, not to worry about me, to forget everything about this night. Instead, I whispered, "Stay with me."

He crawled under the sheets next to me. We weren't touching, but his presence alone made the entire bed far more comforting.

"Night."

"Night."

I shut my eyes, and just before sleep took me, I felt Frank's hand reach out and grab ahold of my own.

. . . .

Morning came quicker than I would've liked. As Mikey shook me awake, I realized that Frank was laying on top of me, still sleeping.

"What?" I croaked, slapping his hand away from my shoulder.

"Good morning to you, too, Sunshine. It's time to start the day. Evidently we're to find out today's challenge in ten minutes at breakfast. I'll leave it to you to wake Frank up, since the two are very into each other right now. Quite literally," Mikey said.

"It's not like that," I called as he headed towards the door.

"Oh, I'm sure it's not," He replied. "I'll see you at breakfast, Gerard."

After he left, I shook Frank's shoulder gently. He murmured softly in his sleep and slowly blinked the sleep out of his eyes. "Hey. You ever get back to sleep?"

"Yes," I responded. "We need to get up, though, because the next challenge is to be announced in like ten minutes."

"Yeah, okay. Give me a couple more minutes. You go get ready first," He said, laying his head back down on my shoulder.

"I can't, Frank. You're on top of me."

His face turned scarlet as he snapped out of his daze. "Sorry," He muttered, rolling off of me. "I'm headed to the bathroom."

After we finished getting ready, we headed downstairs in silence to join the others. I didn't think either of us knew exactly what to say.

"Hey, guys," I said, taking a seat at our table. Breakfast was stale waffles and fruit, which was surprisingly ripe.

We were about halfway through our breakfast when Bert approached our table, his eyes never leaving my face. "Gerard," He said, completely ignoring the rest of my team. He placed his hands on the table and leaned towards me. "I heard about what happened yesterday, and I'd like to apologize on Kia's part."

"Okay," I said, confused as to why exactly he was telling me this. I doubted he was actually sorry, and this was just some part of something bigger. I really just wanted him to leave me alone.

"I'll see you around," Bert said, winking at me before walking off.

"Alright, Air Head needs to lay off," Frank bayed, getting to his feet.

I grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him back down. "Don't let him see you worked up. He will use it against you."

Frank leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed and his jaw set. He was cute when he was protective.

The doors swung open, and Bob entered the room. Everyone fell silent, and, noticing the lack of sound, he smiled smugly to himself.

Bob reached the front of the room and pulled a gun from his belt and began to twirl it in his hand absentmindedly. His eyes scanned our faces. "You all seem to be alive after yesterday's challenge," He observed. "I'm not sure whether to be disappointed or not, but I certainly am surprised.

"Today's challenge actually may be more difficult, mentally, that is. Physically, well, it really does depend on the person. Your challenge today is to face your greatest fear."

 


	9. Mikey Learns Some Valuable Life Lessons About Sharks

We gathered in the lobby around noon. After Bob had made the announcement about today's challenge, we'd been sent upstairs with nothing to do but let our fears eat us alive.  
I wanted to leave the hotel and run far, far away, but I'd surely be found, and then there would be consequences. I wanted to beg for a different task, but I knew Bob would only laugh and make me look like a fool. I was going to die.

Ray had three panic attacks, and we had to calm him down. Frank wouldn't speak to anybody. Mikey paced the room nonstop and muttered to himself. Me, I couldn't stop thinking about how much it would hurt to have a needle shoved into my skin.

"Alright, kiddos," D said, clomping down the stairs. "Time to load up."

Frank stared at him for a solid ten seconds before saying. "You're, like, a year older than us."

D smirked. "Actually, I'm a year younger, but I'm more experienced with a gun and know a lot more about what's going on here than you. I'm also taller than you, Frank, so speak to me with some respect."

We got in the car, and this time, Ray took the front seat.

"Today we've got a couple of stops to make," D apprised as we pulled out of the parking lot. I tried to focus on what he was saying, but it was difficult when Frank's thigh was pressed against mine.

"Bob's informed me of what you are each afraid of, and I'm going to inform you of our schedule," He went on. "First, we're off to Camden, where Mikey's going to swim with some sharks. Next, we're going to stop in Newark, where Frank is going to get to spend some quality time with some pretty big spiders. After that, we're headed to the beach, where Ray gets to swim around in the ocean. Finally, we'll finish with Gerard getting a tattoo at the place where this all began."

I froze. A tattoo? I couldn't get a tattoo. No, no, no, no, no, no.

"H-how do we win?" Mikey asked.

"Whoever finishes first," D responded, jerking the steering wheel to the right.

"That's hardly fair!" Frank shouted. "Team One's only got three people!"

D frowned. "I know. It sucks a lot, but we've got to do the best we can."

The shorter boy sank back into his seat, scowling. "We're going to die," I muttered. "We are so dead by the end of this week."

"Don't talk like that," Ray chided. "I'm sure we'll be fine."

Yeah, there was no way we were gonna be fine.

. . . .

Quite some time later, we pulled up to a enormous building. The parking lot was almost empty, aside from a couple of cars and four school buses. D parked, and we headed towards the doors.

Inside, a few people were wandering around. At the front desk, a boy a little older than me with dyed red hair was taking calls. He had red eyeshadow smudged around his eyes, and looked more like he belonged behind a drum set than at the entrance of an aquarium.

"Hi, there," He said kindly when we reached him. "How can I help you?"

"I've booked two thirty minute spots to swim with the sharks," D told him.

"Alright," The guy responded, turning to his computer. "Could I get a name?"

D lowered his voice, but the room was so quiet that we could hear him anyways. "Mikey Way and Diego Cordero."

The employee looked around on his computer for a moment before smiling and saying, "Alright. I'll call Tyler right now."

"Your name's Diego?" I asked D as he stepped away from the front desk.

He glared at me. "Well, who else would it be, Gerard?"

Another worker of the same age entered the room. He had brown hair and a couple of tattoos on his arms. The very sight of them made my stomach clench. I was going to be inked up far too soon for my own liking.

He smiled at us, and walked over. "Hi. I'm Tyler, and I'm going to be making sure everything goes as planned during your time with our sharks here at Adventure Aquarium. Which one of you is Mikey and which one is Diego?" He tried to sound cheerful, but past that, I could hear melancholy. The boy at the front desk looked at him with concern, but Tyler just gave him a sad smile.

We followed him into the aquarium, and Tyler asked Mikey and Diego for their sizes before disappearing into a room labeled STAFF ONLY. He emerged a moment later in a wetsuit, and two more in his arms. "The bathrooms are just around the corner. You can change in there, and I'll ready the equipment. After that, we will get started."

The swimmers took their wetsuits and disappeared. Tyler turned to us. "It's fun to watch, too, don't worry. Are you all scared of sharks or something? You do know a shark would never deliberately attack a human, right? Actually, all shark attacks are by accident, and there's-"

Frank cut him off before he could get too excited. "Actually, It's Mikey who's scared of sharks. Diego wants him to face his fear, so we came here."

Tyler smiled, and this one looked genuine. "I'm sure I can help with that. I've been interested in sharks since I was twelve, and I'm proud to say I know quite a bit."

Mikey and Diego emerged a moment later, dressed in their wetsuits. Mikey's arms were crossed over his chest and his muscles were tense. Diego had actually taken off his sunglasses, revealing bright green eyes.

"Let's head to the tank, and we can get started," Tyler said. He led us down the hallway, through a door, and up a set of stairs. The next thing we knew, we were looking down into a tank of moving, breathing sharks.

Mikey took at step backwards.

"Diego, Mikey, you'll have to stay behind this underwater rock wall, but you'll still get to be up close and personal with the sharks! I'll get you hooked up to our gear, and you'll be ready to go," Tyler explained with a grin.

He secured my brother, Diego, and himself with gear you'd use to go scuba diving in. "Are you guys ready?" He asked when they were finished.

"Yes," Diego said.

"No," Mikey said.

"Mikey, it's going to be fine," Frank assured him. "They're not going to kill you."

Mikey glared at him. "Spiders are less likely to kill you than sharks, Frank, and you're still scared of them."

"What exactly about sharks makes you nervous, Mikey?" Tyler asked.

"Well, first off, they could tear off your limbs or eat you alive-"

"Sharks don't hunt and eat humans. In fact, under the rare occurrence that a shark does attack you, it's only mistaken you for it's actual prey, such as a seal."

"They could drown you, like they could pull you under while you're still alive-"

"The chances of you being attacked by a shark are one in 3.8 million. Plus, no shark would purposely attack a human."

"You have no idea where they could be-"

"You'd probably see the dorsal fin, unless you were in deeper water. There aren't many sharks on the Jersey shore, so I wouldn't worry too much."

"They're huge, and have thousands of teeth-"

"I wouldn't say thousands, Mikey."

My brother sighed in defeat and shook his head. "I don't care. I still don't want to get in the tank with them."

"Yeah, well, you're going to have to, Way." Diego rested his hands on his hips.

"Hey, Mikes," I said gently. "They're not going to hurt you. I swear. And if I'm wrong, I'll get two tattoos instead of one."

The corners of Mikey's mouth tilted upwards. "Alright. I'll hold you to that."

I silently prayed that he wouldn't become that one in 3.8 million to suffer from a shark attack. I was already regretting my promise, but I hated seeing my little brother so terrified.

Tyler helped Diego and Mikey into the water, and then jumped in after them. It was silent as they went under. I could see Mikey shaking a bit. He stayed far away from the edge of the wall, but Tyler slowly encouraged him to come forwards.

Diego seemed marveled by the closeness of the sharks. He looked as if he wished he could go beyond the wall, and I thought I saw a small smile on his face.

After about ten minutes, a shark swam up to the wall. I could hear Mikey's scream from above water as he flinched back. He resurfaced and said, "That's it. I'm done."

Tyler and Diego joined him. "It hasn't been thirty minutes yet," Tyler pointed out.

"I don't care," Mikey said, climbing out of the water. He covered his eyes, and I couldn't tell if he was crying and didn't want us to know or if he just didn't want to see the sharks anymore. "I'm not getting back in there."

Diego sighed and climbed out next to him. "Okay. Let's go."

Tyler handed the two towels and helped them remove the gear. After that, he led us back to where we'd gotten the wetsuits. Mikey and Diego went to the bathrooms to change.

Once we were ready to go, Tyler bid us farewell and disappeared down a different hallway.

Mikey was still shaking as we left the aquarium. "You alright?" Ray asked him.

He only nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets.

We climbed into the car. "Next stop, the Newark Petworld," Diego announced, running his hand through his curls. His sunglasses were back on his face.

I glanced at Frank, who was sitting in the middle seat. He stared at the roof of the car stubbornly.

The drive was long and quiet. My mind busied itself with thinking about all the ways that my tattoo could go wrong.

Finally, we entered Newark and stopped in front of a small building called Petworld.

A small bell rang as we set foot in the building, and an older man at the check in counter smiled at us. 80's music from the radio behind him filled the air. "Welcome to Petworld. Can I help you find a particular animal?"

"Yeah," Diego said, smirking. "Could you show us where the tarantulas are at?"

The man smiled. "Of course."

He led us to the back of the store, where there were at least a dozen tarantula cages. Frank whimpered quietly and grabbed my arm.

"What about that one?" Diego asked, nodding at a brown and red spider. It was extremely hairy, and had a least eight eyes. Frank's grip on my arm tightened. Ray and Mikey's eyes darted between Frank and the spider.

"This little guy is a red knee tarantula. His name is Harry, since he's the hairiest tarantula we've got."

"I-is it poisonous?" Frank managed.

The worker, who's name tag read Everett, shook his head. "He doesn't normally bite, but it is venomous. It isn't fatal though, and would only cause pain equivalent to a bee sting. Would you like me to let him out so you can hold him?"

Diego grinned. "That'd be fantastic."

"No," Frank said. "Keep that thing in it's cage."

Everett frowned. "He's not an it. And he's actually quite friendly."

"Frank's a little scared of spiders," Ray explained. Everett nodded and took Harry out of his cage. The tarantula crawled up his arm.

"I'll take him. We're trying to help Frank here get over his fear of spiders," Diego said. Harry crawled into his hands. "Ready?"

"No," Frank protested. "Keep that thing away from me."

"Get over here," Diego told him. "Let go of your boyfriend's arm and man up."

"Gerard isn't my boyfriend," The shorter boy grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Put your hands out."

"I will start punching people."

"Frank. It's smaller than you."

"Yeah, well, so is a bullet."

Diego ground his teeth in frustration. "Yeah, a bullet that's going to-" He broke off with a sigh.

"Fine." Frank stepped forward hesitantly, and put his hands out. Diego placed Harry in his palms.

"See?" Everett asked with a smile. "Nothing to be afraid of-"

He was cut off by a high pitched scream as the spider crawled up Frank's arm. Who knew Frank Iero screamed like a five year old girl?

"Get it off! Gerard, help me!" He shouted. "Please!"

I turned to Diego. "Can't you, like, shorten the time to two minutes?"

Diego shook his head. "Nah. He deserves this, and if you do anything, I'm making it ten minutes."

The tarantula continued to scale Frank's arm, and he continued to scream, frozen in place. "Get it off of me! Kill it!"

Everett shook his head and took to watching the other spiders crawl around in their cages.

Harry spent a minute or two on Frank's shoulder. Slowly, the shorter boy stopped screaming, and raised his hand. He brought it down on his shoulder, and Harry got away just in time, disappearing down the back of Frank's shirt. He started screaming again.

Diego's timer went off just as Frank's screams were turning to sobs. The second the alarm went off, he yanked off his shirt and shook it out. A disheveled looking Harry fell out, and I snatched him up before he could get away. I handed the spider back to Everett.

I glanced at where Frank had been standing, but he was gone. "Thanks," Diego said, shooting Everett a smile.

As we were leaving the store, I caught a snippet of what the lady on the radio was saying.

"Ten high schoolers from Belleville and two from Bloomfield have gone missing. Police are searching and if you see-"

Diego pulled me out of the store before I could hear the rest of the report.


	10. Lost A Thousand Waves Deep In The Ocean

I hadn't been swimming, much less this close to a body of water, since the night Bob faked his death, leaving me with nothing but nightmares of the horrific event. Mikey didn't sleep for days after the occurrence, and to this day, I had no idea how he'd done it. Frank didn't answer his phone for weeks, and I only ever saw him at school, where he barely spoke. Ray disappeared completely for over a month, only to show up later with no explanation as to where he'd been and in desperate need of a haircut.

To put it simply, the four of us had been a mess, and now, as I stood staring into the depths of the ocean, memories flooded my mind.

At first, as we'd driven along the shore, I'd had flashbacks to the night of Bob's death itself. The screaming filled my ears once more and I could practically see my friend clawing at the ground, desperate to hold on until one of us could come and help him.

When we got out of the car, though, I thought of a different night. It was a night about a month and a half after Bob had drowned. It was the first time I'd ever seen Frank Iero cry in the ten years I'd known him.

Out of the four of us, I'd always been the one who cried the most. My sensitive state was always been something I'd been ashamed of, but then again, it was what brought Frank and I together in first grade. A boy I'd never bothered to remember the name of had been picking on me, and he'd made me cry. I couldn't recall what he'd been saying to me, but I did remember Frank stepping in and yelling at him. He'd gotten in a fist fight to defend me, and at the end of his suspension, I'd thanked him. From then on out, we'd been best friends up until our separation in sophomore year.

The first time I saw Frank cry, we'd been at my house. My mother had told Mikey and I countless of times to invite somebody over. She'd been broken up over how much Bob's death was hurting us, but what did she expect? He had been one of our best friends.

Mikey was going out with my dad to see a movie they'd been anticipating. My little brother was nowhere near as enthusiastic as he'd been before the death, in which he'd been counting down the days to it's release. He could be a real geek sometimes, but I had no right to tease him. I was just as bad, for I had mountains of comic books piled around my bedroom.

My mom had a meeting she had to attend for work, and she told me she didn't want me to be alone in the house. She'd suggested I call Frank and invite him over. I think Mom knew of my feelings towards the other boy before I did, but it was something we never really spoke about.

I'd called Frank and he arrived just before Mom left. She gave him a big hug before leaving, which I think kind of embarrassed both of us.

After she'd departed, we sat in silence. It hadn't been just the two of us in so long. Our lives were falling apart around us and I'd been so glad Frank was there, because I'd known him longer than any of my friends aside from Mikey. Everything about him was familiar, from his bad habit of biting his nails down to the quick to his favorite faded black T-shirt that he'd happened to be wearing that day. Right then, I needed the familiarity.

We'd sat in the quiet for a long time. I'd been staring at the ceiling, he'd been staring at the floor. I don't think either of us had known what to say.

Finally, I'd spoken. "Thanks for coming."

He hadn't answered. I looked at him, concerned. "Frankie? Are you okay?"

He'd looked up at me, and I swear to this day that I could physically feel my heart shatter in my chest in that moment.

Tears shone in his bloodshot eyes, which were exhausted and pained. The skin around them was red and raw. I could see where he'd bitten his lips, which were chapped.

"Gerard-" He choked out, and he'd begun to cry.

I'd rushed forwards and pulled him into my arms. He buried his head in my shoulder and sobbed, his fists balled in the fabric of my T-shirt. I held him while he'd cried, rubbing his back and pulling him closer when his sobs got harder.

We had stood there in the entryway of my home for what felt like forever, but I hadn't minded. As long as Frank needed me, I'd be there. If he'd wanted me to hold him like that forever, I would've.

When he finally calmed down, he'd muttered an apology and avoided eye contact as he stepped away.

"You don't need to be sorry," I told him. "You didn't do anything wrong."

He'd only shrugged.

"I just want you to be okay," I'd whispered.

"I want you to be alright, too, Gerard," He said. "Don't forget to take care of yourself."

I'd given him a small smile. "My mother beat you to that speech. She's making sure Mikey and I are eating, and she made me shower this morning."

"I haven't showered in four days."

I'd wrinkled my nose in mock disgust. "That's disgusting, Frank, but I guess it explains why you don't smell like you usually do."

He giggled, and to this day it is still the most adorable sound I've ever heard. "You know my smell that well?"

I'd blushed and smiled. "You've smelled like vanilla since you were seven, Frankie, thanks to those candles your mom is always burning. Go take a shower. You can stay here tonight if you want and sleep in one of my old shirts."

"Thanks." He'd been partway up the stairs when he'd turned. "Hey, Gee? Can we, like, not tell anybody about that?"

I'd nodded. "Of course. If you need me, though, I'm always going to be here."

That was one promise I wish I could've kept.

Now, I stood in front of the ocean. Barely anybody was at the beach due to it being autumn. The only sound was the crashing of waves on the shore. I'd taken off my converse and left them in the car; I didn't want to get sand in my favorite shoes.

Mikey stood next to me. He'd never been swimming in the ocean before because of his fear of sharks. He'd always liked to come out to the beach with Frank, Bob, and I, though, and sit in the sand and read a book.

The last time I'd been to the beach, Bob had brought his surfboard along. He'd been taking lessons from his friend Andre. He was always talking about how good at it Andre was, and that he could give Frank and I lessons, too, if we wanted. We'd excitedly agreed. Three days before the two of us were supposed to begin our sessions, Bob had died. We never learned to surf, and we never met Andre.

"It's been awhile since I've been anywhere near water," Frank said, appearing at my side. He shook his head. "Bad memories."

"You've got that right," I agreed. "Where's Ray?"

"He's coming just now," Frank told me. I turned my head to see Ray and Diego walking towards us. Diego was saying something to Ray, and our friend was shaking his head.

When they reached us, I noticed that Ray's hands were shaking. His breathing was shallow and quick. He was thrumming his fingers against his leg and shifting his weight every three seconds.

"It's too loud here," Ray muttered shaking his head. "I'm going to throw up."

"It'll be fine," Diego told him. "Just go as far as you can until you can't touch, and then you can come back."

"I can't swim!" Ray yelled, turning on him. His hands curled into fists. "You're insane, you know that? You're fu-"

"Stop screaming at me," Diego snapped, straightening. "Just get in the water, Toro."

Ray covered his face. "I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't," He muttered, pacing the beach.

I grabbed ahold of his shoulder. "Ray. Hey, man, look at me."

He removed his hands from his face, and I noticed that his eyes were full of fear. "What?"

"I want you to do something with me," I said carefully.

"Okay."

"We're going to breathe in for four seconds, hold our breath for seven seconds, and exhale for eight seconds," I told him, reciting the words my mother had told me practically every night since I'd witnessed Bob's death.

We repeated the exercise many times before Ray was somewhat calm. "Okay," He said, more to himself than to me. "I can do this. It'll be fine."

I watched with the others as he waded into the water, still in his jeans and T-shirt. He didn't have a bathing suit, and we were in a public place so I doubted he wanted to strip to his boxers.

Ray was shoulder deep when he paused and stared at something in the water. Nevertheless, he continued forwards.

And then, suddenly, he fell straight down, as if the ground had disappeared from underneath him. He didn't come back up.

Panic took over my body. Ray couldn't swim, he would surely drown if something had pulled him under, or if he'd fallen into a blue hole. With a racing heartbeat and no thought as to what I was doing, I plunged into the water.

_"Ray!"_ I screamed the name of my friend over and over again, though I that knew if he was underwater, he wouldn't be able to hear me. The salty water was ice cold and was soaking my skinny jeans, but I could barely feel it. My mind was filled with worry, for Ray still hadn't broken the surface.

Running through the waves was difficult, so I took to swimming. Behind me, I could hear somebody else thrashing through the water, but I didn't turn to see who it was. I didn't have the time.

Finally, I reached the spot where my friend had disappeared. I peered down, and a sink hole that had to be at least a hundred feet deep stared back at me.

Though it was dark, I could see a figure about a quarter of the way down. I could tell it was Ray by the cloud of hair surrounding the physique.

I took a deep breath and dove down into the blue hole.

I reached Ray fairly quickly, for I'd always been a pretty good swimmer. He was flailing around in the water, moving his arms wildly and kicking his legs violently.

I looked down. Darkness glared back up at me. We were dangerously close to getting swallowed up by it.

I grabbed Ray's arm, and his eyes widened when he saw me. He pointed upwards, and I saw Frank swimming towards us. My breath was almost gone. I knew the journey to the surface would be more difficult, for we had to help Ray, who had shut his eyes.

My grip on his arm tightened and I began kicking upwards. He was inhaling water now, and he wasn't moving. _Come on._

In seconds, Frank had Ray's other arm and was helping to pull him to the surface. I couldn't hold my breath any longer, and took in a mouth full of water. My legs ached, and I wanted to give up. The darkness that had looked threatening before now looked somewhat peaceful.

_No._ I couldn't stop now. We were so close. We couldn't give up now, I _wouldn't_ give up now and let one of my best friends and the boy I was in love with lose their lives. The thought alone gave me the motivation to swim harder.

With one final kick to propel ourselves upward, we broke the surface. I started to cough up water instantly, and gulped in air. I could barely touch the sand here, but Frank, who was quite a bit shorter than me, couldn't. His head kept disappearing beneath the waves, and struggling to keep Ray above water. Keeping my hold on Ray, I wrapped my free arm around Frank's waist and pulled him into me. He wrapped one arm around my shoulder, keeping himself afloat. His other hand kept a sure grip on Ray's arm. He began to choke up water and gasp for air.

When I could finally speak again, I whispered, "I don't think I can move anymore."

"We have to," Frank muttered. "We have to get him back to the shore, or he's gonna die."

I nodded. "I know." I was shivering from the icy water, and I could feel Frank shaking too. Ray was still unmoving.

Somehow, we found the strength to swim forwards, carefully pulling Ray along with us. He was still breathing, but he was unconscious.

Finally, we reached the shore. Frank and I moved Ray onto the sand. I collapsed onto the sand. My freezing clothes clung to my skin. I couldn't help but be reminded of the nightmarish night that Bob died.

"Help him," Frank managed, gesturing at Ray. He crumpled next to me.

Mikey was already on it. He was giving Ray CPR, and muttering under his breath. Silently, I thanked the classes my brother had taken at the fire station with his friend Awsten.

Finally, Ray began to cough up water. He sat up, turned in the sand, and vomited. After he'd expelled of all the water in his lungs, he began to fight for air. Mikey rubbed his back gently.

I sat up, and my little brother tackled me in a hug. I slumped against him, still shivering.

"You could've died," He murmured. "You could've died, Gerard."

"Yeah?" I replied weakly.

"I was going to follow you," He told me. "But I'm the only one who knows CPR, and I wanted to be here in case one of you needed it."

He held me for a moment longer before he began fussing over Frank, who was still laying on the ground, staring up at the sky. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead, and there was sand in it. He was still shaking from the cold.

I wanted to pull him close to me and never let him go.

Diego, who'd kept his poker face on this entire time, pursed his lips. "There are some towels in the car. I have money, so we can buy you guys some clean clothes. We don't want to raise suspicions as to what we've been up to."

Careful, Diego, for a second there I actually thought that you cared.

We made our way back to the car. Diego pulled two towels out of the trunk. Mikey took the front seat.

Because it'd been Ray who was knocked unconscious, we decided to let him have his own towel. Frank and I shared the other one.

"You two are sitting awfully close together," Diego observed, glancing at us through the rear view mirror.

"There's only one towel," Frank responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Yeah, but that's a big towel."

"We're cold," I told him, blushing.

He just shook his head and continued to drive.

 


	11. What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Wish You Were Dead

It took us ten minutes to get to the nearest store, which happened to be a Walmart. Ten minutes didn't seem like a long enough time to sit this close to Frank Iero with the excuse of being cold, even though I was actually freezing.

Diego parked the car. "Let's go get you guys some fresh clothes. After this, though, we have to hurry to the tattoo parlor."

We walked inside and headed to the clothing section. We got a few strange looks, but, come on, this was a Walmart in Jersey. There were weirder people here than a couple of teenage boys that'd almost drowned.

We picked out some clothes, which were cheap, and paid. Then Ray, Frank, and I went into the bathroom to change. I'd stuck with a plain gray shirt and jeans that rode low on my waist. I would've chosen skinny jeans over those any day.

From Walmart, it took us thirty minutes to reach the tattoo parlor. Just arriving at the place sent shivers down my spine. It reminded me of yesterday, when Mikey and I had arrived here only to get pulled into this nightmare. It didn't help that one of my best friends had almost been killed here the morning before, and now the murderer was leading us right back inside. I should've ignored that phone call. I should've never done what it'd asked of me.

But, then again, if I'd blown it off like it was nothing, my friends would be facing this alone. I think Bob would've had some other way to find me, too.

Of course he would've had his ways. Bob always had his ways.

When we entered the tattoo parlor, Pete and another guy of the same age were sipping Starbucks coffee and chatting. My throat went dry. I would kill for a Starbucks right now.

Maybe that wasn't the best way to put it, especially in this situation.

Both workers looked up when we entered. Pete's face stretched into a smile. "Mikey Way! Back so soon, are we? And, a hello to you too, Frank Iero. My favorite customer." He nodded at Frank.

A chorus of hellos rose from our group.

"What can we do for you today?" The other guy asked, setting down his coffee. He had on glasses and a fedora.

"Gerard wants to get a tattoo," Mikey said, nodding at me. At the word alone, I felt my heart speed up in my chest. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans.

The mere idea of a needle going into my skin, or even touching one, made me want to throw up.

Pete turned to Frank. "Is this the same Gerard that-"

"Yes." Frank cut him off. He might've been blushing, but I wasn't sure. I was too busy eyeing the tattoo guns behind Fedora Guy and trying to keep my breathing steady.

Speaking of Fedora Guy, he was staring at the five of us, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. I couldn't pinpoint why we were so fascinating to him, but Diego was staring right back at him and running his fingers over the spot on his belt where he'd hidden his gun.

"Well, take a seat," Pete told me cheerfully.

"I'll be right back." Fedora Guy disappeared into the back room.

"That's Patrick," Pete explained as I sat down. "He's pretty much my best friend, and he designs a lot of the artwork here. He's not really the tattoo type. Have you decided what you want for your tattoo? Do you have a photo?"

"I don't have picture, but I know what I want," I managed, crossing my arms. "I think I want the words Fear Is A Liar on the back of my shoulder."

He nodded. "Can do. Take off your shirt."

I pulled my new shirt over my head. Mikey held up his hand, and I tossed it to him.

Pete sat down next to me, and asked me to turn in the chair. I did.

Behind me, Pete said, "Alright, Gerard, the first thing I'm going to do is clean and shave the area. We don't want any hair to get in the way of this process." He pressed a cotton ball, which was cold with some kind of soap, to the back of my shoulder to clean it. A moment later, I felt the razor on my skin.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the image of needles from my thoughts.

When Pete finished cleaning the area, he asked me if there was a certain font I'd like.

"I- I haven't decided," I whispered. I needed to get out of here. I needed to get out of here right now.

Pete smiled. "That's okay," He told me gently, sensing my nervousness. He showed me a sheet with different fonts printed on it and I chose one that I liked.

"What I'm going to do now," He told me, "is apply the stencil. I'm going to insert your design into a machine called a thermal-fax to create it, which will save a lot of time."

I nodded, and shut my eyes again. My breath was coming out in short, quick pants, and I'd never felt my heart beat this hard. Images of needles were glued to the back of my eyelids, but when I opened them, the room was spinning, and that just made my nausea worse.

I couldn't do this. There was no way.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no-

"Gerard."

My eyes snapped open. Frank was standing in front of me, his eyes filled with worry. Mikey was just behind him. Diego and Ray were gone.

My face was burning. I avoided Frank's gaze. Here I was, freaking out about getting a tattoo in front of the guy I liked, who had too many to count. He probably thought I was a fool and a coward.

"Hey. It'll be over faster than you think, okay? I promise. I've done this quite a few times," He told me. After a moment's hesitation, he gave my hand a light squeeze.

"Remember to breathe," Mikey reminded me. "You can do this, Gee."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. Pete began to speak again.

"Now I'm going to-"

He was cut off by a scream, and the sound of a gunshot.

Pete's eyes widened. My throat went dry. Mikey and Frank looked at each other.

Another gunshot sounded from the back room.

We were on our feet in an instant, shoving to get to the door in the back. Frank pushed it open.

Ray Toro had collapsed against the wall, clutching his thigh, which was covered in blood. His shaking hands were clasped over the wound, and he was whimpering. Mikey ran over to him, and pressed my T-shirt to the injury in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Patrick lay on the floor, his glasses crooked on his face. In his hand, he clutched a cell phone. His fedora was gone, and blood leaked from a bullet hole in his head. He wasn't moving.

Diego stood over him, gripping his gun so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"Patrick!" Pete's voice tore from his throat in a strangled cry. He collapsed next to his friend on the floor. He pressed a shaking hand to his face. "Patrick!"

Frank charged at Diego, and the two fell backwards into a desk, knocking a computer to the floor. It shattered with a crash. "What did you do?" He screamed. "What did you do?"

Pete was sobbing now, clutching Patrick's hands tightly. "Don't leave me, Pat. Wake up, please wake up. You're my best friend, I need you," He begged.

There was a sharp crack as Frank slapped Diego across the face. Diego punched Frank right in the nose, and I heard a crunch that made my stomach turn. Diego was running his finger back and forth over the trigger of his gun.

I lunged forwards and pried Frank off of Diego. "Let me go!" Frank shrieked. "Let me go, Gerard! Get your hands off of me!"

"Frank!" I shouted sternly, tightening my grip on the shorter boy's arms. "He has a gun!"

"I don't care! He killed Patrick, Patrick's dead..."

It was in that moment that Pete looked up, his eyes shiny with tears. His teeth were clenched.

"Get out of my shop," He ordered in a shaky voice. "Get out of my shop and never come back. I never want to see any of you ever again, do you hear me? Get out."

"In the car. Now," Diego commanded. He gripped his gun tighter, if that was possible.

Frank shook off my hands and bolted out of the room. Mikey and I helped Ray to car.

"It's my fault," Ray whispered. "He shot me in the leg when I went to get help. Patrick was trying to call the cops. He was trying to help us."

I swallowed back a sob. I hadn't even known Patrick, but the knowledge that he'd died trying to save us made me feel worse.

When we got back to car, Frank wasn't there.

"Where is he?" Diego growled. "Son of a-"

"I'll find him." I had to force the words from my throat. I started towards a figure hunched over in the grass near the side of the building. It was dark out now, and the neon lights of the parlor cast eerie shadows onto the pavement.

Patrick was dead. He'd died trying to help us. My head was pounding. I was in so much shock that I couldn't even cry. Patrick was dead. He'd died for us, and he'd only known one of us.

Frank was throwing up in the grass when I reached him. Blood dripped from his nose, which I guessed was broken. His body was shaking with sobs.

I didn't do anything until he was finished. I wasn't sure if he wanted me to touch him or not.

"Frank."

He whipped around instantly. "Gerard."

I approached him slowly, and took him into my arms. He collapsed against me, crying so hard that I was worried that he couldn't breathe. I rubbed his back and pressed my lips to the top of his head. I wanted this to be over. I wanted Patrick to be alive, and I wanted everything to be okay.

When his stream of tears began to slow, he looked at me. His nosebleed wasn't as bad anymore, thankfully. His eyes were rimmed with red, and his face was stained with tears and blood. I pulled him in close again. I couldn't lose him. I wouldn't lose him.

"He was my friend," Frank whispered. "All the jokes we'd shared, all the ideas we'd come up with... nothing but memories now. I can't... I can't think of him like that. A memory."

"I know, Frankie," I murmured. "I don't know what to do. If I could go back in time and stop it, I would. I would take his place if I could."

He wrenched his head away from my shoulder in a quick, angry movement. "Don't you dare talk like that, Gerard. I can't bear to lose you again. I can't."

I wasn't sure what to say. Before I could think of a response, however, Frank leaned up and shyly brushed his lips against mine, as if he wasn't sure if he should be doing this or not.

I tilted my head, and the next thing I knew, his mouth was on mine, kissing me softly. He tasted like tears, and a million broken hearts.

We kissed for what felt like forever, though I was sure it was only about a minute or two. His body was pressed up against mine, and our lips moved perfectly in sync. For a moment, I forgot about everything else that'd happened that day. For a moment, there was only Frank.

When we broke apart, his dark eyes met mine, and I knew that there was nobody else I'd ever want in the world but him.

"Gerard?" He breathed.

"Yeah?"

"Don't leave me alone again. Please."

"I won't."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

We stood there in silence for a minute before Frank asked me if I was ready to go back.

"I need a minute," I told him. "I'll be there shortly."

He nodded, and made his way back to the car. I watched him go.

I lifted my fingers to my lips, which were still tingling from the kiss. I couldn't let anything happen to him. Not now, not ever.

If I had to die so that he could live, so be it.

This was no game.

This was a bloodbath.


	12. True Friends Stab You In The Front

It was quiet on the car ride back to the Hotel Bella Muerte.

It wasn't that nobody felt like speaking, really, it was that nobody knew exactly what to say. I'd been forced into the front seat this time, because Mikey was still trying to help Ray, and Frank couldn't be trusted to sit next to Diego after their fight in the tattoo parlor.

The silence just made things worse, however. It gave me more time to think. Time to think about the endless darkness of the ocean. Time to think about the look on Pete's face when he saw Patrick's dead body sprawled across the floor. Time to think about the feeling of Frank's lips pressed against my own.

For a long time, I'd had feelings for Frank that went deeper than friends. It'd been when we were in the ocean, clinging onto our last shreds of life, however, that I realized it wasn't just a mess of feelings that go away in a year or so. I was in love with him, so insanely in love with him that it was making me crazy, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

I stared out the window, watching the world fly past me. It could've been any other day; The city was lit up and pedestrians were strolling down the street, talking and laughing, completely oblivious to what'd just happened. I envied them. Their best friends weren't bleeding in the back seat of some car that smelt like cigarette smoke. They weren't being kept inside a disgusting old hotel like some kind of caged animal. They hadn't seen their friend come back from the dead as a sociopathic murderer. They hadn't seen death like I had.

It was crazy how quickly life could steal normalcy from you. I was sure enough that it would take my sanity, too.

I wondered if I would die before I got married. The thought terrified me, though I'd wanted to die before. It wasn't on the days I locked myself in my room and broke down or the when I saw Frank, Mikey, and Ray in the hallways, acting like their lives were better off without me that I wanted to die. It was the lonelier nights, when I lay in the dark, unable to sleep, left alone with the knowledge that I had nothing left that I silently begged for death.

I wasn't scared of death. I'd seen it far too many times to fear it. It was dying before I truly lived that I was afraid of.

I glanced into the backseat. Frank was staring out the window. Mikey still had my shirt pressed to wound in Ray's leg, his shaking hands were covered in blood. Ray's eyes were shut, but he was breathing. The blood on Frank's face had dried. He kept running his fingers over his lips, and I felt myself smile a little bit. Was he thinking of me, too? Or was it just a nervous quirk I'd never noticed before?

The car came to an abrupt stop, disrupting my thoughts. Diego didn't say a word as he got out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind him.

I got out and yanked open Mikey's door. My brother climbed out, his eyes frantic. "Come on," He urged. "Help me with him. He's lost a lot of blood."

We eased Ray out of the car. I noticed his breaths were shallow and quick. His skin was pale and cold to the touch. We had to hurry.

"Can you walk on it?" Frank asked, nodding at Ray's leg. I practically jumped out of my skin. I hadn't noticed him come up next to me.

Ray shook his head. "I-I can't feel it."

I threw his arm around my shoulder and wrapped my arm around his waist. Mikey did the same, and we lugged him towards the door. Frank rushed to open it for us.

Ray's eyes were closed again. He kept reaching up to rub his temples, and every time he tried to open his eyes, he winced and shut them again.

The unpleasant smell of mothballs hit us the second we entered the lobby, but it wasn't alone. Roslyn was at her desk, her feet propped up on the surface, a magazine in her lap. Her eyes shot up the moment we entered. When she saw Ray's wound, her mouth opened in surprise before hardening into a determined scowl. She swung her feet off the desk ad started towards us. "What happened?" She demanded. "Is the bullet still in there?"

Mikey nodded. "Yeah. Can you help us get him upstairs?"

Roslyn shook her head. "Nope. We're going to my room. We've got no time to waste." She stalked down the hallway. Mikey and I shared a confused glance before following.

I'd never been to this part of the hotel before, but it looked a lot like the hallway upstairs. I suspected most of the rooms were empty, aside from the ones that Diego, M, and X stayed in. Bert had mentioned something about a cooking staff yesterday, so I supposed they had a couple of rooms. I wondered if Bob slept in this hallway, or if he stayed somewhere else.

Roslyn's room, 9A, was near the end of the hallway. She pushed open the door and we staggered inside.

Her room was somewhat cleaner than ours. There were no webs on the window and no bugs stuck in the carpet. She only had one bed, and clothes were strewn across it, along with a fluffy blanket. At the foot of the bed sat a suitcase with piles of books sitting on top of it.

"Lay down on the bed," Roslyn instructed. We tried to help Ray onto the bed, but there wasn't much to do. He practically collapsed on his own.

Roslyn moved the books off of her suitcase as quickly as she could. She flung open the top, revealing even more clothes and many envelopes. "Explain," She ordered, digging around in the mess.

"Gerard's scared of needles, so we went to a tattoo parlor so that he could face his fear. That's the parlor I normally go to, and I know the guys who work there," Frank told her. His eyes were fixed on the floor. "Pete was about to give Gerard a tattoo on his shoulder when we heard a gunshot and-" He choked up, and covered his face with his hands. I wanted to run over to him, to tell him it would be fine, that Patrick was in a better place, to kiss him again, but I knew that this wasn't the time or the place.

"Diego killed Patrick, who was trying to call the cops for help," I said, picking up where Frank left off. "He'd gone into the back room, and Diego had followed him with Ray, who knew something was up and was going to get Patrick help. Diego shot him in the leg. Next to Patrick, he was lucky."

Roslyn perched herself on the bed next to Ray. In her hand, she held a small pouch. "How did Patrick know what was going on?"

"When we were leaving the pet shop, I caught a bit of a radio report that was talking about twelve missing teenagers, so I suppose people are looking for us," I explained.

"I've got no doubt in my mind that Pete will call the cops if he's anything like he was when we were eight year olds," Mikey added.

"He will," Frank promised, finally regaining control over his emotions. "I know he will."

Ray was unconscious as Roslyn examined the injury. "I'm going to have to take this bullet out of his leg. It's not going to be pretty, so I suggest you all leave. Actually, it'd be better that way."

"I'm not going anywhere," Mikey argued. "Ray's my best friend, he always has been."

"Mikey-"

"I'm staying, Roslyn. You can't make me leave."

Roslyn's annoyance was clear as the turned to Frank and I. "You two. Out. Now. I need to concentrate, and that's gonna be difficult with a bunch of children crowding me."

"We're seventeen. People need to stop calling us children," Frank grumbled.

"And I'm nineteen, which is still older than you," She called as we made our way to the door.

I shut it quietly behind us. Aside from the murmuring that came from Roslyn's room, the hotel was quiet. The hallway suddenly felt eerie. One of the lights was flickering, sure to blink out soon enough. Multiple doors were ajar, and I wondered where the people who stayed in them were at this hour.

"Should we wait here?" Frank whispered, looking up at me. His eyes were bloodshot and tired. Had he been sleeping alright? I suddenly felt guilty for waking him up last night, though it'd been by accident.

I opened my mouth to reply when I heard muffled cries from a room near the front of the hallway. I pressed a finger to my lips, and crept towards the sobs. Frank wasn't far behind me.

When we reached the door, I paused outside of it, holding my breath, listening.

"Please, Bob. Please, I'll do anything, just give me another chance," Diego begged. His voice was wobbly, like he was crying.

"You've failed, though, Diego. You were supposed to make sure each member of your team went through with the task at hand, correct?" Bob asked. His voice was cold, angry, and dripping in disappointment.

"Yes, but, please, I couldn't-"

"Stop your blubbering. How can I let you move forward with this if you're just going to fail me? If I let you live, then Maya and Andre will certainly believe that they can get away with it, too. I have to keep the rules strict, Diego. We only get one shot at this."

Maya and Andre had to be M and X. I'd never heard the name Maya before, but I remembered that Andre had been a close friend of Bob's growing up. I'd never met him before he became X.

"At least let me say goodbye to my brother and sister-"

Bob cut Diego off with a cold laugh. "They won't even notice that you're gone, Diego. Andre was always much more promising than you, and Maya is a lovely female. She has her benefits."

His words made me want to throw up.

"What are you doing to my sister?" Diego asked. His tone had shifted from desperate to protective in mere seconds. "What are you doing to Maya?"

Bob laughed again, louder this time. "Don't worry about her. I've already got Miss Hayes for those purposes, and she suits them very well."

Miss Hayes?

"You're sick, you're so sick, you bas-"

"You said you killed somebody today," Bob interrupted. "Let me ask you this, Diego. Aside from you and your team, was he the only one there to witness today's events?"

Silence.

"Answer me!" He demanded, and there was a crash.

"No," Diego whimpered. "I-"

"You're stupider than I thought!" Bob yelled. I heard the sound of glass shattering. Then, in a quieter voice, "You know very well that if this plan is to work than we cannot have anybody going for help. We have to be silent until the very last moment. We have to show them who's in charge, and we can't have anybody slipping through the cracks, including you, Diego."

"Bob, please-"

He was cut off by a gunshot. I heard footsteps approaching the door, but I was frozen, rooted to the spot. I'd never been particularly fond of Diego, but I still didn't understand how Bob could kill so easily, as if he were just plucking wilted roses from a garden.

Thankfully, Frank heard Bob approaching the door and pulled me into an empty room. We stood pressed against the wall, barely daring to breathe as we watched him stroll down the hallway, the metal of his gun glinting when it hit the light. I swore that one of these days my heart would explode from beating so hard.

Bob was just about to enter the room at the very end of the hallway when a scream broke the silence.

_Ray._

Instantly, Bob turned and threw open the door to Roslyn's room. He disappeared inside.

In the darkness of the musty room we hid in, Frank's eyes met mine. He looked terrified, and I was sure I did, too. He nodded slowly, and slunk down the hallway. Against my better judgement, I peered into Diego's room before following.

His corpse was on the floor, his eyes glassy. His mouth was agape, and there was a bullet hole in his head. The image seemed to mirror how we'd found Patrick earlier that day, and I tore my eyes away, heading down the hallway and trying the erase the sight from my mind.

When I reached Roslyn's room, the door was ajar, and Frank was peeking inside. He shot me a look, as if to say, _What took you so long?_

Inside, Ray was conscious again. His wound was bandaged, and a bullet coated in blood glinted on the nightstand. He was breathing heavily, and his hands were over his face.

Bob stood in the center of room, saying nothing, only observing. I couldn't see his face because his back was to us, but I was sure he was either furious or found our makeshift hospital hilarious.

Mikey stood in the corner, frozen. His eyes were glued to Bob's gun, and I was sure he'd heard the gunshot that ended Diego's life.

Roslyn sat up straight on the bed, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. She didn't look afraid until you looked into her eyes, which sent out a silent cry for help. Despite this, she kept her brave stance.

"Frank, Gerard, I know you're out there," Bob said without turning around. "You'd best come inside now so that you can hear what I'm about to say. I don't intend on repeating it, and I know that Mr. Toro is your friend."

"You were friends with him once, too," Frank reminded him as we made our way inside. I wondered if he knew that we'd overheard his conversation with Diego.

Bob chuckled softly. "I was. I was friends with all of you once. I thought I knew you."

"And what did you think of us?"

A flicker of sadness crossed Bob's face. "You were going to change the world. _We_ were going to change the world, the five of us." He spoke quietly, and for a moment he wasn't a cold blooded murderer. He was the friend I'd grown up with by my side, who was scared of heights and loved going down to the boardwalk. He was the friend who always got crushes on the new girls at school and shopped religiously at Hot Topic. For a moment, he was just a kid who'd gone down the wrong path.

And then it was gone, as if it'd never been there in the first place.

"What changed?" I whispered.

"Everything. Everything changed when you didn't even bother to look for me, that you didn't even hope that I was still alive. It was then that I realized you never cared, that I could only trust myself," Bob said. He began to pace the room. "I was always the throwaway friend, wasn't I? The odd one out who had to be with the kid who ate paper when we had partners because you always chose each other without even sparing me a glance. The one friend that was pushed to the back when the sidewalk wasn't big enough. The friend who had nobody sitting across from them at lunch. You never cared about me. I was like some kind of backup all the time. I just never realized it until two years ago. And I'm glad I did."

"Bob, it wasn't like that," I murmured. But it was. I'd always chosen Frank first, because he was the one out of our group I was closest to. Mikey, who was in some of our classes because of his advanced learning skill, and Ray were always together for the same reason. Bob had had nobody.

"It is, though. Or, it was," Bob sneered. "You're lucky I won't shoot you right here and now, Gerard Way."

He turned to Roslyn. "Look at you, finally using those lessons your father taught you. It's a real shame he's dead, now, isn't it?"

Roslyn sprang off the bed and lunged at Bob, swinging her fists. Bob grabbed ahold of her wrists and lowered them to her sides. Despite her struggling, his grip on her was too tight. He smiled. "Look at you, Miss Hayes. Fighting so hard. You're so strong, princess, you know that?" He purred. "Still, you went against my rules. You were a bad girl, but I'll deal with you later."

"Get your hands off of me, and never speak of my father again," Roslyn snapped. Bob only smiled and brought his lips to her ear. He whispered something to her, and the disgust on her face was plain. Finally, he let go of her, and she stumbled backwards.

"What's wrong with him?" Bob asked, nodding at Ray.

"He was shot," Mikey whispered. "Roslyn said one of the major nerves in his leg was severed, and he's never going to be able to use that leg again."

Bob shook his head. "Well, he's useless to me now. We'll be executing him at sunrise tomorrow. He's worthless."

And suddenly, I couldn't hear Bob speaking. The ringing in my ears was growing too loud and the world was spinning quickly, quickly, too quickly. I couldn't move. I couldn't see anything but Mikey, who was now sitting on the bed next to Ray, wiping his tears away. I could only see Frank, staring at the wall in shock. Roslyn, who Bob was dragging out of the room. Ray, who was just looking at the ceiling sadly, as if he knew he'd be the first to die out of the four of us.

This wasn't real. This wasn't happening. He was Ray Toro, he couldn't just die. We wouldn't let Bob kill him. No. It wasn't possible. I couldn't lose one of my best friends. No. No. No. No. No. No. _No._

Somebody was screaming. My head was pounding, and I realized that I was the one shouting. Tears blurred my vision, and I knew that this wasn't real, that this was just another nightmare, no, no, no, no, no...

I fell back against the wall, hitting my head. There was nothing in my stomach; I didn't eat dinner, but I'm gonna throw up, I'm going to vomit, this isn't real, wake up wake up wake up wake up

this isn't a dream.

 


	13. You Can't Wake Up, This Is Not A Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody. I'm back, thanks for your patience. I've been so uninspired lately, but I hope you enjoy this chapter.

I wasn't sure how long it'd been since I heard the door shut.

I sat against the wall for what felt like forever, my head buried in my knees. This wasn't real. This was just another bad nightmare. This couldn't be real. It was impossible. This wasn't real.

I couldn't think. I couldn't cry. I could only sit there, wishing that I could wake up from this horrid dream.

I slowly looked up. The room was the same it'd been before.

I was not dreaming. This was real. Ray was going to be dead in mere hours, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

I think I've found Hell.

Ray looked tired. He was gazing at the celling, his expression sad. He looked lost in his thoughts, as if he were replaying everything before he lost it forever.

Frank was still staring aimlessly at the wall. His face was a mix of pain, confusion, and anger.

Mikey was on the bed next to Ray, crying harder than I'd ever seen him cry in my life. He was doubled over, his body wracked with sobs. The familiar look of sureness in his eyes was gone, replaced with shattered disbelief, as if something had broken deep inside my brother.

I got to my feet shakily and went to sit by Mikey on the bed. I pulled him into my arms. He buried his face in my shoulder, holding on to me for what seemed like dear life. I rubbed slow circles on his back.

"It's going to be okay. I love you, Mikey. It's gonna be fine," I whispered.

"It's not going to be fine!" He screamed, suddenly jerking away from me. "Wake up, Gerard! Ray is good as dead, and so are we! This isn't something you can just run away from. This isn't one of your imaginary worlds. This is real life, and you have got to stop running for five seconds and _wake up_."

He collapsed back into my arms, crying harder than he had been before. I wasn't sure what to do other than hug him back.

_This is real life, and you have got to stop running for five seconds and wake up._

He was right. I'd never done anything but run away from my problems. I'd never stood on my own two feet and faced them. I'd always just turned and fled the second they appeared. I was a coward. That was all I'd ever be. A coward.

Mikey's sobs turned to whimpers before stopping completely. The two of us just sat there for a moment, holding onto each other as if we could shield the other from the end of the world.

"Gerard?" He whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think I want to be alive anymore."

I squeezed my eyes shut, hugging him tighter. I couldn't lose my little brother. I couldn't lose Mikey, who cried during Disney movies and read so much that our parents would take away his books when he got in trouble. Mikey, who always had a witty remark on hand when someone was being mean to him. Mikey, who was always cold, even in the summertime, and brought his hoodie everywhere.

I realized I was crying, because it was all too much. My friend was dying. My brother wanted to die. I had no idea what Frank and I even _were_ at this point. Bob had risen from the dead as a sociopath. We were part of the reason this was even happening. If we'd been a better friend to him, Ray wouldn't have a leg that didn't work anymore and Mikey wouldn't be wishing he were dead.

"Don't say that, Mikey," I mumbled. "Please."

He was silent.

I swore to myself that I'd never let Bob lay so much as a finger on my little brother. Not as long as I was still breathing.

Mikey leaned back against the wall, running a hand through his hair. He rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more, Ray."

Ray propped himself up against the pillows. "There was nothing any of you could do. I knew I was going to be the first to- to die out of the four of us. I was never as smart as you, Mikey. I was never as brave as Frank or as self-sacrificing as Gerard. I'd rather it be me than any of you." His eyes were trained on the blanket in front of him and his voice was sad. It didn't seem like he was really here, in this moment. His mind was somewhere else.

"Don't say that!" Frank suddenly shouted, spinning around to face us. "Don't you dare say that, Raymond Toro. You are just as important as I am. We wouldn't have made it this far without you. Don't you sit there and tell me that you're not brave and smart and selfless. You followed that psycho Diego in the tattoo parlor and practically lost your leg so that you could try to help Patrick. You swam in the ocean even though you're terrified of it. You were the one who made sure I ate, slept, and showered last year when my depression got really bad. You were the one who gave me the idea to cover my body in tattoos so I wouldn't cover it in self harm scars. Don't you say that you mean nothing, because that's nowhere near true."

My breath caught in my throat. Self harm scars? How long had he been wanting to hurt himself? Had he already started, or were the tattoos preventing him from doing so? Was it because I'd left him? His words from yesterday echoed in my head.

_You were my best friend. I told you everything, and then you were just gone. You were like my person, and I was yours. And then suddenly, we were just strangers with secrets. Without you, I felt kind of lost._

It was at the very moment that Roslyn burst through the door, her cheeks flushed and her hair messy. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes looked exhausted and sad.

She closed the door softly behind her. She shut the door and closed her eyes, leaning back against it. I wanted to ask her if she was alright. I was scared of what Bob had done to her, but I knew it wasn't my place to ask. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. That was just the way Roslyn was.

However, Frank, who was now sitting next to Ray on the bed, had no problem asking questions.

"Are you okay?" All of the earlier anger in his tone was gone, replaced by a hollow monotone.

Roslyn's eyes fluttered open. "I'm fine. Just forgot the lot of you were here." She made her way to the nightstand and jerked open the drawer, searching for something. "What have you come up with?"

We only stared at her blankly as she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and took one out. "What, you haven't been thinking of a way to help Ray? You've just been sitting here wallowing in your self pity?"

"Not necessarily," Mikey insisted weakly.

She lit her cigarette and sat down on the bed. "Well, then, I don't know what you've been doing, but two of you look like you were crying. Not going to say names, but if you need stuff to cover tear stains and reduce puffiness, I've got it." Roslyn looked pointedly at Mikey and I.

Thanks.

"We've got to figure _something_ out," She went on.

"Not to be rude, but why do you care so much?" Frank cut in.

She glared at him. "Look, buddy, I know what it's like to lose people you care about. It's happened to me far too many times. I'm not about to let it happen to you."

"What can we really do, though?" I sighed. "Before Diego died, Bob was talking to him as if there was something more to this. Something he's not telling us."

"I've been thinking that for awhile," Roslyn agreed. "He's not giving me any extra details either, because I'm not on his side. The only reason I haven't left yet is because I'm not leaving you all here to fend for yourselves. One player has already lost his life. God only knows who's next."

"What about M and X?" Ray asked. "Do they know anything?"

"They're Diego's siblings. And their real names are Maya and Andre," Frank chimed in.

"Andre? Like, Bob's surfer friend Andre?" Mikey questioned, surprised.

"I think so. I'm not sure why he chose X instead of A, though."

"X is the unknown variable. Maybe he thought that was cooler than using the first letter of his name," Ray offered.

"Who do you think is going to replace Diego, now that he's..." My little brother trailed off, as if he was afraid of the word.

"What about you?" Frank glanced at Roslyn.

She snorted. "Me? No way. I'm nothing more than Bob's sex toy. And I'm not cut out for the kind of stuff they do."

"Bob's probably got a plan," I muttered. "He always does."

"Which is why we've got to have one, too," Ray reminded us. "No self pity, remember, guys?" He grinned at Roslyn.

She took a drag off her cigarette. "We've got to figure something out and fast. Bob will probably take you out with a gunshot to the head, so we won't have much time to act."

"No. If he planned to do that, Ray would already be dead. He'll want something more dramatic. He thinks this is a game," I said.

Mikey nodded. "Gerard's right. I've got no idea what he'll do. Bob's unpredictable. He's a madman."

"Any ideas as to what he's got planned?" Frank's eyes darted from person to person.

Silence.

I buried my head in my hands. I needed this to stop. I needed this to be a dream. I needed an escape.

_Wake up._

"Give me that," I barked suddenly, taking Roslyn's cigarette from her. I set it between my lips and took a drag. It wasn't relaxing, like I thought it would be. Instead, my stomach was doing flips and the room had started to spin slowly. But it was better than nothing. It was better than this emptiness, this hopelessness, this helplessness.

I blew out the smoke slowly. Before I could repeat the process, though, Mikey snatched the cigarette from me and was inhaling the smoke exactly as I had.

The next thing I knew, Ray had it, and then Frank, and then it was back to Roslyn. She gave it to me after taking a drag, and somehow the second intake of smoke was better than the first.

We continued to pass the cigarette around. I knew there were more in the nightstand, that we didn't all have to share, but it felt better this way. We were five teenagers on the brink of the same destruction. We were playing games with death.

"We have to kill him," Frank whispered, taking the cigarette from Ray. "We have to kill him. It's the only way to keep ourselves alive." He took a drag off of it, tipping his head back and parting his lips to blow out the smoke. God, he looked so hot like that.

"How do we do it, though?" Mikey asked. "We don't have guns."

"We'll just have to get some, then," Roslyn told us. Frank handed her the cigarette, which was barely a stub now, and put it out on the ashtray on the nightstand.

She got to her feet. "Mikey, stay here with Ray. If anyone comes in and asks where we are, tell them that I was preparing tomorrow's breakfast."

"Wait a moment," I interrupted. " _You_ cook the food here?"

"Yes."

"No offense," Mikey said. "but you suck."

She smiled thinly at him. "Thanks. Come on, now, let's go."

"Wait!" Ray cried. "I can walk. I can make it. I want to help."

Roslyn looked at him sadly. "No, you can't. Besides, three is enough." Without another word, she bolted from the room, as if she didn't want to face his sad expression any more. I glanced at Frank, but he didn't look at me. He moved towards the door and I followed.

Roslyn was already halfway down the hallway, so we had to quicken our pace to catch up with her. She led us through the lobby into the room on the opposite side of the dining area. She pushed open the door and ushered us inside.

The kitchen was small and crowded. There were multiple cabinets that'd been left open, and the white surface of the fridge was smudged with black stains. The oven looked broken. One corner of the counter was broken off. There were spiderwebs in the corners and a lone fly buzzing around, trying desperately to find a way out. At the back of the room, there was a safe built into the wall. Roslyn strolled over to it and typed a code into the keypad. Frank and I watched as the light turned from orange to green and she opened the door, revealing an assortment of guns.

She motioned for us to come closer. She handed two pistols to Frank and two to me. She kept one for herself and shut the safe. "These are all loaded, so be careful."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Guessed so. We're not stupid, you know."

She glared at him. "Well, I was just making sure. You can be reckless at times."

I could hear a the distant sound of footsteps, coming towards us. Of course this wasn't going to be easy. It was just my luck.

"You don't need to look out for me. You aren't my mother," Frank snapped, his voice rising.

I slipped one of the guns in my back pocket.

"You should be grateful, Frank. I've spent half my life without a mother or a father," Roslyn shot back.

"Yeah, well, I grew up without a father, too."

"At least you-"

"Guys! Shut up!" I hissed. They fell silent, seeming to hear the footsteps. The door creaked open just as I shoved them into the small space between the fridge and the wall, leaving me arrested in the bright glow of the flashlight.

Maya smiled. "Jared, is it?"

"Gerard."

She started towards me. I raised the gun that was still in my hand shakily. She only laughed.

"Don't shoot. I've got a gun better than your measly pistol, _Chico._ "

I kept my grip on the gun. Maya sighed and tilted her head to the side. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you? What're you doing in here? How'd you figure out the code?"

I didn't answer. She was standing in front of me now, only inches away from the gun. "Make one move," I whispered. "and I'll shoot."

Maya just smiled and lunged forwards, grabbing my arm at the wrist and spinning the gun away from her. She twisted my weapon down, and I heard a sickening crack as a fiery pain shot up my index finger. Maya had the gun now. All I was left with was a broken finger.

"If you aren't going to compromise, I'm going to have to use force. I don't like to do that, but it's part of our job. Bob pays us to do this, you know," Maya said, pinning my hands behind my back. "I don't know why D wasn't watching you more closely."

"D's dead," I spat. "Your precious Bob killed him."

A flicker of sadness crossed Maya's face, followed by anger. She forced me forwards towards the door. "You're fibbing. Come on. We're going to see Bob."

We marched out of the kitchen and down the hallway, towards Bob's room. I tried to ignore the throbbing in my finger. I was sure it was broken.

I squeezed my eyes shut. If Bob was going to kill me, he surely couldn't kill Ray. That'd only leave two people on Team Three. He needed us for something. There was more to this sick, twisted game. There had to be.

"Where's your shirt, _Chico_?" Maya asked, rousing me from my thoughts. "Have you just been running around like a bare chested warrior all day?"

"I lost it," I muttered, thinking back to my bloodstained shirt that Mikey had used to keep Ray's bleeding at bay.

Maya giggled quietly to herself. "Interesting."

She knocked sharply on Bob's door. There was no response. Maya's smile melted into a frown. "He must be out."

"What do you want with me, Maya?" I asked. "Tell me why I'm here."

She slammed me against the wall, her nails digging into my wrists. "Who told you that name?"

"Diego."

"He would _never_ ," She snarled. "Don't lie to me, Gerard."

"Careful with him. He's always been more fragile than the others." A voice behind us mused.

She spun around. I dropped my hands to my sides. Bob was standing only feet away, his hands behind his back. He approached us slowly. "Kind of a pretty boy, isn't he?" Bob asked Maya. She nodded.

"Found him with a gun, sir. I'm not sure how he found out the safe code or what he planned to do with it," She explained.

Bob smiled, stopping in front of me. His face was inches away from my own, his sour breath fanning across my cheek. "I think I know very well what he planned to do with it."

The next thing I knew, his fist was around my throat and he slammed my head back against the wall. I would've screamed, but Bob's grip around my neck was so tight that I could barely breathe.

"Don't try to stop me again, Way. You are nothing but a pawn in this game. I could kill you as easily as I plan to kill Toro." He told me, his voice so calm and sure.

His grip tightened, and I was sure that the world shouldn't be spinning this quickly. Black spots danced in front of my eyes like drunken ballerinas.

My head hit the wall again and everything went black.

 


End file.
